


It’s the Little Things in Life

by Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl



Series: Afternoon Tea with Prince Lotor [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Already fixed S6, Don’t mind me just gonna go ahead and fix S7, F/M, Fixing S8 goes without saying, Ok not exactly implied anymore, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 29,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl/pseuds/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl
Summary: With a heavy heart, Lotor returns to his own reality in a bid to conquer the existential menace of evil threatening every living being. His new friends had not only saved his life in the alternate reality, they had also soothed the pain of heartache and loss with their camaraderie and laughter. Most of all, though, he missed her. As he activates the gift she had given him, he discovers, much to his deepest chagrin, that his new life-giving powers have brought her AI to life: a petulant, impertinent, and flirtatious miniature version of his intended.





	1. Good Things Come in Small Packages

**Author's Note:**

> “It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.”  
> ― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

Passing through the quintessence field outside the ruins of Daibazaal, Lotor and his team have successfully returned to their own reality. The echoes of emptiness reverberated through his being and he found himself longing to return to the bastion of warmth from whence he came. His first task would be to acquire intelligence on the state of the universe since his untimely departure, though he was loath to tackle the gargantuan obstacles ahead of him. He absentmindedly reaches into his pocket to feel the polished gift Nymuë had given him. He had wanted to wait until he returned before he activated it so he could think of her when her absence weighed heavily on him. He hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

He channels his energy into the heart of the stone, set with a single carat of the diamond from the compressed castle, and suddenly, a charming, miniature hologram of its originator appears before him. He laughed at the unexpected surprise to which she responds, “Did you wake me up just to laugh at me, you squirrelly fucknut?”

Lotor couldn’t believe she was just as cheeky and impudent. 

“Are you an interactive A.I.?” he asks excitedly. 

“No, I’m the one asking the questions damnit. Why are you laughing at me?”

“My apologies, I was simply caught off guard. You are quite fetching, though, I must admit.”

His little companion pauses to admire him from head to toe. “And you... oh my fucking god, how can you be this hot? Makes me want to fuc...”

“Nymuë! Discretion!” he hisses, worried that the generals on loan from the friendly neighbourhood reality would hear. “Never have I heard you speak in such a manner! Are you malfunctioning?”

“Monsieur, you know I don’t have a prefrontal cortex, right?”

“What?”

“I therefore have no inhibitions or filters.”

He ran his hand down his face. As enticing as an oversexed AI might have been at any other time in his adolescent dreams, now was the worst possible time. He needed her help. He couldn’t contact the other reality. And all he had was... this little, impulsive, impetuous, impish version of the real Nymuë. There was no possible way she had meant for this to happen. He reached out to touch her and realized she had assumed physical form. He groans. His life-giving abilities had brought her memories to life. He pokes her again to express his displeasure.

She squeaks and tries to grab his finger. “Hey!”

“Do you have an off switch? I do not have time for this.”

The defeat and rejection on her face makes him regret his terse choice of words. He hadn’t thought he could hurt her feelings. But what was he thinking? Why was he worried about hurting an AI? She sits down in his hand and buries her face into her knees. He sighs with resignation as he discovers how softhearted he really is. 

“I will not turn you off. But you must promise me you will behave.”

“If you are in a relationship with someone, whether it is me, or anyone else, you can’t turn your back on them when they become inconvenient to you. There will be times when I disappoint you. But there is always a solution if we work together. You summoned me because you needed help. The first advice I will give you is: you owe your generals an apology. You betrayed their trust when you killed Narti.”

Lotor was surprised by her candor and frankness. Perhaps a lack of inhibitions was not detrimental after all. And then he recalled that Nymuë never does anything haphazardly or half-heartedly. This little version of her was exactly what he needed.


	2. Spackled Spectators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need some kind of... like... last minute, poorly-set-up deus ex machina!!”  
> ― Bryan Lee O'Malley, Scott Pilgrim

Nymuë and Lotor had both agreed to send his generals to the alternate reality to ensure a greater chance of success. The repaired Sincline ships had been outfitted with cloaking devices, and their new suits were not only quintessence impermeable, but also stealth capable. All of them were now proficient in the usage of the anemone tech. 

“Hey not-our-Lotor, who are you talking to?” Ezor asks suspiciously as she approaches him. 

He sheepishly turns around and shows her his pocket-sized companion.

Ezor laughs uncontrollably and picks her up by the collar. “This is amazing! You can talk to her and even touch her.”

“Yes, I unintentionally brought her to life; I believe she was meant to be a compilation of Nymuë’s memories but also seems to be a raw, undiluted, and unfiltered version of her.”

“If you spackled, spectating, refried taterfucks are done harassing me, maybe you could put me down!” she yells as she kicks her legs. Ezor laughs harder. “You’re so cute when you’re mad, though,” she replies.

“Be still, little one,” Lotor says as he cups her in his hands, “and tactful.” He could feel her struggling from within his grasp, like the fluttering of a trapped bird.

“I cannot contact the other reality, Nymuë. Do you have any explanations as to why this could be? You created the transceiver devices, after all.”

She calms immediately and says, “Principle of parsimony, honey bear. Let’s start with... did you turn it on?”

Even Acxa chuckled at this one. The other two had gathered around now, due to the commotion. 

“Indeed, we did.”

“Okay, lover boy,” she says to unrepressed snickers, “will you bring me to it to see if it is broken?”

“Of course.” He wasn’t entirely certain what he thought of the new pet names. The only terms of endearment he had heard from her previously were insults.

She runs a diagnostic test on it, which reveals it to be in perfect working order. Little Nymuë sits down to think. “It was programmed to receive pings from the alternate reality, in the event no one was around to respond. There is total silence; there are no signals coming or getting through.”

“Are we in the wrong reality, by any chance?” asks Zethrid.

“No, this is the correct one. We exited from the same coordinates as your last known whereabouts; inter reality travel is dependent on spacial markers. You just need the same coordinates you came from. But even if we were, they are inter-reality transceivers, encoding messages via quantum entanglement...” she gasps as she stomps her little feet. “... because strings exist whether intra or inter reality in the fabric of space-time!!” 

“Uh, I have no idea what you just said,” Ezor says wearily. “Are you sure you’re really a medic?” She pokes her a few times just to irritate her.

“We had the right coordinates. Do we have the right time?” she cries.

“The right time? What do you mean?” asks Zethrid.

“What is the date today?” she asks.

“Are you implying that we have travelled through time?” Lotor asks incredulously. 

“Sir, our ships systems still indicate the time correlating to when we left the other reality. We will have to interrogate another computer system to see if they match,” replies Acxa. 

“Then we might as well choose one that will also yield the information we require.” 

“When you’re done all of that,” small Nymuë says to Lotor, “can we have sex?”

Lotor was mortified and moves to cover her mouth. There was wild laughter from Zethrid and Ezor, while Acxa stifled a few laughs. 

“Do you know which Lotor this is?” giggles Ezor.

She escapes from his grasp to yell out, “Yeah, of course. This one is really hot in bed.”

Lotor blushes from head to toe, making them laugh even harder, as he moves to take her away. “Alright, that is quite enough now. I think it’s past your bedtime.”

“Yeah, that’s right Master Chief, I know you want all of this,” she says seductively as she wriggles her little body. 

Lotor groaned out loud. It was going to be a long week.


	3. Potating Potatoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to face up to the facts  
> I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax  
> I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire  
> Don't touch me I'm a real live wire
> 
> Psycho Killer  
> Qu'est-ce que c'est  
> Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far better  
> Run run run run run run run away
> 
> -Talking Heads, Psycho Killer

“Okay, okay, I promise I’ll be good,” she says with a pout. Maybe a nap wasn’t a bad idea. She was, in fact, starting to feel tired. 

Lotor sets her down on a nearby console and continues to say, “Whether we have travelled forward or backward in time, then, will determine where we must gather our intelligence. Sinister forces may have overtaken significant swaths of the empire during my absence if it is the former.”

“It’s not the latter,” replies a small voice.

“Why not?” asks Acxa.

“It is mathematically and theoretically impossible to travel backwards in time.”

Lotor feels his heart seize in his chest. “What do you mean? We must get back to the correct time when we return to your reality.”

“Well, that’s according to the physics that I know. Time dilation slows time for the observer, while the rest of the universe carries on, meaning we have been deposited at an unknown time in the future. Until now, I was only aware of its existence at the event horizon of a black hole. Time dilation existing due to a forced cessation of an inter-reality rupture is a completely unknown phenomenon to me. I will work on a solution while you focus on our next task now, finding the nearest Blade base.”

“That’s a good suggestion; now that Acxa is a member, there shouldn’t be much resistance,” says Ezor. 

“Depending on how much time has elapsed. The druids already attempted attacks on the Blade in our reality. You must proceed with caution in the event of an ambush.”

As the team made preparations to investigate at the nearest base, petite Nymuë crawled into one of Lotor’s helmets and fell asleep. Her physiology was much like that of a small mammal: she had an elevated heart and respiratory rate, she tired quickly, and she would have an exceptionally short life span. As Lotor affectionately took one last glance at her winsome sleeping form before he leaves, he fails to realize that her life energy is connected to the activated stone. It is still in his pocket as he and his generals leave the ship. 

They return two vargas later to discover her outside of her helmet, lying facedown in a tiny pool of an unknown fluid. 

Lotor scoops her up anxiously and tries to rouse her. After some vigorous stimulation, she replies with half-lidded eyes and slurred speech, “Youze muhfuckers... tried ta kill me.”

“Nymuë, what happened? Why are you so lethargic?”

“Took it away... psycho killer... qu’est-ce c’est...”

“I... am... I didn’t know, I am so sorry,” he replies with marked distress. “ I would never purposely do you harm.”

“Potato... potahto... tomato, potato...”

“What can we do to help?” Acxa asks.

“Haters gonna hate,” she responds lackadaisically, “potatoes gonna... potate.”

“Nymuë, please tell us what you need,” Lotor pleads.

“Get bent, you ...potating... fucktatoes...” she mumbles listlessly and passes out again. Nobody on board was familiar with tubers, legumes, or any type of crop from earth for that matter, so everything she said was a word salad. Furthermore, she was so pale and limp that it made him panic. Acxa, however, maintained a level head and had him bring her in close proximity to her life stone. Nextly, she directs him to channel a small amount of healing energy into her. 

Lotor was already under an enormous amount of pressure. At the abandoned base, they discovered they had been ejected two years into the future, Voltron was MIA, and most of the Blade had been systematically exterminated. At the height of his stress, he discovered Nymuë languid, confused, and perilously close to death. He was glad that Acxa could summon a collected focus at a vital time. This would be mission impossible without all of them. Nymuë improved but continued her slumber. He breathed a sigh of relief and could only imagine what the other Lotor felt like when he almost lost her as a result of his truancy.


	4. Wistful Elegy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Le temps d’un souffle coupé  
> Par un soir tardif d’été  
> Les anges partirent avant  
> Et leurs visages tachés de blanc  
> Je crois qu’il est trop tard  
> Pour t’avouer que j’ai mal  
> À mon cœur mourant  
> Et mes souvenirs tachés de blanche
> 
> (In the space of a breath  
> On a late summer evening  
> The angels left first  
> Their faces stained white  
> I believe that it's too late  
> To admit to you that  
> My dying heart is hurting  
> And my memories, stained white)
> 
> \- Coeur de Pirate, La Petite Mort

When little Nymuë finally awoke, she found herself in an improvised bed perfectly tailored to her tiny frame. It seemed like something Acxa would have made. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Lotor noticed her stirring and came over to assess her condition.

“Are you alright? How do you feel?”

“I’m a bit tired. Thank you for saving me.”

“No, I am afraid it was my negligence that dealt such harm to you. I am deeply sorry for my mistake.”

“What did you discover at the base?”

“Are you sure you wish to discuss it so soon after your recovery?”

“I’m fine, now. How long have I been out?”

“A couple vargas. Unfortunately, it seems the warp in space-time that continues to affect the entry coordinates to my reality propelled us forward by two years. The Blade base had been abandoned and it seems most of the members have been hunted down.” She could see an increasing distress as he spoke. “That witch and her druids took advantage of the synced records as you predicted and eradicated them. There is no record of the Alteans that we could find. Your home planet is likely under assault by Sendak, I do not know if you are even still alive in this reality, and we have no way to go back in time to ask for help. This is the worst possible luck; just like everything else in my life before... I met you.” His tone softened at the end. 

Nymuë holds out her arms, asking him to pick her up. He cups her in his hands as he sits down on his bed and rests his hands in his lap. She casually lounges back and rests her hands behind her head. “Let me tell you a story,” she begins. “Once upon a time, there was a dude who was born to basically the cruellest parents imaginable. Some pretty shitty luck, right off the bat, yeah? And then his feckless, fen-sucked, fuckvoid of a father tried to make him kill innocent people. Also pretty bad luck, yeah? And when he wouldn’t, daddy exiled him. Really bad luck, eh? But he had a governess who tried to protect him. Good luck? Maybe. He was extremely resourceful and unbelievably resilient. Also good luck, yeah? Dunno. And a whole bunch of crap that we won’t delve into happened right before he was lost in the quintessence field. Shittiest luck of all time, eh? Perhaps. And then because of that, he met friends who truly care for him and he fell in love with the one who created me. Good luck? Well, actually, may be not.

“What do you mean? It is the best thing that has happened in my life thus far.”

“It wasn’t because of luck, though. There is no good or bad luck. There is no fate, no destiny, no karma, no providence... there is merely us, the universe, and opportunity.” She lets him think about it for a little while. “What you perceive to be bad luck is, in fact, the ripple effects of the evil choices of others.”

Lotor smiles a little. “Then we push back harder against those waves. Thank you, little one. I am fortunate she sent you along with me.”

“I believe I may have a solution to our time gap problem. So, don’t worry about it too much. I will get you back home. Just focus on gathering intelligence for now. I just need time to refine my plan.”

He stopped for a moment, comforted by her reassurances, and her gentle serenade. As he is lulled to sleep, he does not understand that she is saying good-bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nymuë sings La Petite Mort


	5. Maladroit Millipede

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warmth—  
> The shadows of withered trees  
> Stretching out their hands
> 
> Tei-jo, A Haiku Garden

When he awoke in the morning, Lotor lay awake thinking about his current predicament. It’s not everyday that one is whisked away to a fantasy reality when one is on the cusp of losing everything. It had been easy to put aside the pangs of heartache and emptiness without any proximity to those painful reminders, but now that he had returned to the bleak, and barren reality that was his own, he was unsure he had gotten over anything at all. 

“You look pensive, love,” says a gentle, but still sleepy voice. He looks up to find a small head peeking over her makeshift bed. 

“It’s nothing, I’ll be fine.”

“Your heart still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“How in the name of the ancients can you tell?”

“Common sense? Who can get over heartache in a month? You hadn’t loved anyone in a long time. You had put all of your hopes and dreams in her and she turned her back on you when you needed her the most. Called you the one thing that would hurt you the most. You may be engaged now, and you may have someone who loves you without reservation, but heart wounds are not so easily healed.”

He furrowed his brows and rubbed his brow. “You are infuriating. It’s utterly maddening sometimes, how much you know. Can I just wallow in self-pity in privacy?”

“Okay. Wake me up when you’re ready. Then I’ll beat her up for you.”

“What?!”

“I’m just kidding, you self-flagellating amoeba. I would never hurt anyone. But I am so angry at her that it makes me want to punch her.”

Lotor perks up at this revelation. “You are? There was no indication you held any sort of animus toward anyone. You are always so calm and collected. Do you not advocate tirelessly for forgiveness and mercy? You are angry at the Allura in this reality?!”

“Babe, come on. You are also a paragon of poise and polish on the outside. There’s a rage that simmers just below the surface, though. For myself as well. When I was created, I hadn’t yet dealt with the animosity I felt towards the dundering diplopodic fuckpod who almost fucking cost you your life. She shot first and didn’t bother to ask questions later. So yeah, I’m pretty fucking mad.”

“Diplo... podic fuckpod,” he says hesitantly.

“Diplopoda is the scientific name for arthropods with dozens of legs. I called her a fucking millipede.”

Lotor chuckled at the imagery he now could not extinguish from his brain. She had brought warmth again when the chill had threatened to envelop and light when the shadows had him hemmed in.


	6. A Small Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Self-awareness paradoxically requires an awareness of the other,”  
> ― Charlie Jane Anders, All the Birds in the Sky

The intelligence they had gathered was devastating. Flotor had discovered that Nymuë’s entire city had been annihilated, her house burned to the ground. Much of earth’s population had also endured a similarly cruel and merciless fate. There were no Blade members to be found. The Garrison had suffered heavy losses. He was too late. The despair he felt submerged him. Nymuë had saved his life, yet he couldn’t even save hers in his own reality. 

Little Nymuë climbed up his arm and sat on his shoulders. His despondent, disconsolate state was one she had never before seen. As she gently holds his face with her tiny hands, she says, “It’s time to go home. We will return to this reality from a different route to avoid the time dilation pocket. We can fix this, so don’t worry, love.”

“How will you get us back? You said it was impossible to travel backwards in time.”

“We were stuck in a time loop when Haggar corrupted Allura’s wormhole, with Komar energy. Nymuë already made provisions for this possibility. You will find in your dynatherms a quintessence injection system to alter a wormhole that you need to create from within the quintessence field. I have done the calculations to make it possible.”

“I do not have access to Komar energy, Nymuë.”

“That is what I am for. You must place my life energy inside the chamber.”

“What?! I cannot sacrifice your life! I...”

“Lotor, you must. If you are to save this reality, it’s a small sacrifice. Get it? Small sacrifice!” she laughs with abandon. 

He exhaled in distress and paces the room. 

“It’s ok, honey bear. Go home, she’s waiting for you.”

“I... don’t know if I can do that to you.”

“She’s carrying your child. Go home.”

“She what?!”

“Didn’t you notice she was tired all the time when you left?”

“Well, yes, but how do you know the child is mine? It could be...”

“The other Lotor always used protection. You... not so much. You owe him big time, you know that? He hasn’t even had a chance to propose yet, you big jerk.”

With a heavy heart, Flotor made preparations to return to the other reality. All of his crew were quite distraught, in fact, at the thought of losing her. They had become fairly attached to this pugnacious, yet impeccably endearing little person. As he places her life stone in the small chamber, she wipes away the tears she has never seen from him before. 

“Good-bye, mon cheri,” she says softly. “I’ll always love you.”


	7. Retroactive Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Time and I have quarrelled. All hours are midnight now. I had a clock and a watch, but I destroyed them both. I could not bear the way they mocked me.”  
> ― Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

The warped wormhole deposited Flotor’s ships just outside of earth’s orbit, exactly one week from the time they had left. It was precisely as little Nymuë had arranged. The crew remained sorrowful and silent as they entered earth’s atmosphere and headed toward the coordinates she had set for them. Although she was merely a copy of Nymuë’s memories, the fact that she had so willingly given her life for him again, rent his heart in two. The fact that her alternate self had suffered at all, and lost her life tore him apart. He had shakily exhaled the depths of his shock and grief when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Acxa didn’t say anything but her gesture said everything. They had a chance to set things right. He weakly smiled his gratitude and was able to regain his focus. 

It was now mid-December, and Lotor had just given Nymuë her hair comb. He had set it in her hair and explained that it had been made to interlock with the ones she had received from his alternate self. As he turned her around to face him again, he brushed her cheek, and said softly, “I realize that perhaps this situation is unconventional to say the least, and utterly bizarre but I would also like to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Nymuë laughs and pulls him close to her. “You know what my answer is. I’ve been yours from the beginning. Hey, did you know there was a band called Bizarre Love Triangle? We should play their music at our wedding.”

“Do you think your family will object?”

“Probably not, but we haven’t even told them most of what has happened yet. I had planned to ease them in gently, but I think we are running out of time. They don’t even know about the quintessence field, let alone the other Lotor.

“You are worried about not hearing anything from the other reality.”

“I have a good idea why we haven’t yet. Which means my AI will be bringing them straight back to us sometime today.”

Lotor shakes his head. “How is it you plan so far ahead in advance? I have yet to become accustomed to it.”

As they approach her home and are about to open the front door, Hadrien throws it open, and stares the two of them down. “Ok, you skittering flapfucked mudskippers, what the fuck is going on?”

Nymuë gasps. “Hadrien! C’est pas gentil! Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” (That’s not nice! What’s going on?)

He moves aside to allow them full view of Flotor, Acxa, Zethrid, and Ezor sitting on their living room couch. Ezor waves cheerily and says, “Wow, Nymuë, your family is so nice! We’ve had breakfast already and it was delicious!” 

Before anyone can say anything, Flotor gets up, and pulls her into a crushing embrace. “You cannot know how I have missed you,” he says, bending down to kiss her, as her parents, and her brothers look on in complete bewilderment and stupefaction. 

“Wait, what is going on?” Ezor asks in astonishment. “I thought your AI was confused. Are you guys actually together?!”

“That’s what we’d like to know as well,” Hadrien says irritably. 

Nymuë rubs the back of her neck sheepishly and says, “Well, I had wanted to slowly acclimatize all of you to the truth because we’ve only told you a third of everything that has happened. And it becomes increasingly unbelievable as time goes on so...”

Nerva, sensing her daughter’s discomfort and unease gently steps in. “Why don’t you have breakfast first,” she says as she sets her arm around her shoulders. “We have plenty of time to listen to the rest of your adventures.”

Marcus bursts in through the door, still in his pyjamas, breathless. He was staying with his parents who lived down the street, to have closer proximity to his cousins. “Ok, Hadrien, what’s the emergency?! Who’s dying? I can do chest compressions.” He pauses in utter incredulity as he sees the people present in the living room. “What the god honest fuckfanned, shit-mottled, bellend concert is this?!”

Both Lotors and his generals laugh. Nymuë’s family was every bit as tempestuous as she was.


	8. Extenuating Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is love.

Flotor’s ardour and affections were so tender that perplexity soon gave way to admiration; he was clearly in love with her, and had been immensely affected by her absence. Although it was one of the most fantastic things Nymuë’s family had ever heard of, most of them were immediately supportive of this unusual arrangement.

“Are you alright? Something terrible happened while you were gone, didn’t it?” she asked as she set her hand on his chest.

“We were ejected two years into the future, resulting from a pocket of time dilation present at the entry coordinates into my reality.”

“You were what? How is that even possible?!” exclaims Hadrien. 

“It is a long story, Hadrien, but the most harrowing discoveries were...” he stopped and took a deep breath before continuing, “that in my absence, all of you have been annihilated in my reality, in addition to most of earth’s population. The Blade of Marmora were systematically hunted down and exterminated. I could not locate the Alteans...” his voice breaks as everyone who was standing sits down, weak with shock. “I inadvertently brought your AI to life with my powers and she gave her life to to get us back to this time.”

Nerva chokes back a sob, as the others clasp their hands to their mouths in distress and dismay. Every phrase he uttered was more unbelievable than the last, and even the gregarious Hadrien found himself speechless. 

“We had just watched the video of Lotor’s victory address to the empire this morning,” Trajan finally says, his voice shaken with grief. “I admit I did not fully appreciate how instrumental all of you were in the direction of this war.”

“What do we do now?” Hadrien asks. “Can you return without experiencing the time dilation?”

“I do not know, however, we have some of the most brilliant scientific minds at our disposal.” Flotor breathes a sigh of relief as he traces his hand down to Nymuë’s abdomen. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m pretty tired but I’m... alright...” She scanned his face for confirmation that he knew but he drew her into another tight embrace instead. 

What was unspoken did not escape Lotor’s notice, but he opted not to address his suspicions in front of everyone. Nymuë’s family had many more unsettling revelations to habituate themselves to. Unlike all their previous jovial and lighthearted conversations, the next two hours were leaden with disclosures of uncomfortably close brushes with death, and the stark reality of war. It was the first time Lotor’s generals had heard in any detail of how Nymuë had not only saved him but ultimately risked her own life to do so. They were then able to piece together the subsequent changes that had occurred in him; although Nymuë had always declined to take credit for them, they recognized that she had not only softened his ruthlessness and brutality as a leader, but encouraged his kindness and compassion to blossom. 

Ezor interjected at this point and said, “I know you’re not going to admit it, but it’s all thanks to you that any of us are here. We’ve known Lotor for a long time. He definitely gave us a second chance because of your influence.” She winks at her. “He’s a better leader because of you too.”

“Are you saying I was not a good leader before?” Lotor asks jokingly.

“Yeah, that’s basically it,” Zethrid says as she shakes her head to a round of laughter. 

Hadrien smiled and ruffled Nymuë’s hair. “Our little sister saves the day.” Trajan gives her a hug too. “There’s so much to take in, I barely know where to start. I’d like to hear more about Commander Korvak and Romelle and how their training is coming along. Mère and I would be happy to take over their training if you are going to be engaged in this other war.”

“But don’t you have to go back to work, soon?”

“Surprise, tous bous,” Marcus says with a wide grin. “You were right when you suspected something was up yesterday. We’ve all had leaves of absence approved to assist in your efforts. We’re coming with you!”

“You what?!”

“Are you certain you wish to sacrifice so much to do this?” Flotor asks with surprise and deep appreciation. 

“We’ve been planning it for a while,” Hadrien replies. “We knew you would need help rebuilding the empire,” he says turning to Lotor. “What we didn’t expect was for you to fucking rescue another Lotor from a fucking alternate reality, have him fall in love with you and whisk you away to fight in his war. Like what the shitfangled, 50 car pile-up, fuckbroglio is this?”

Everyone laughs. Flotor, in particular, loved her brother’s invective-laden monologues. Her family was every bit as endearing and likeable as he imagined them to be. 

Ezor says, “So what are you guys going to do? Aren’t you a bunch of nauseatingly smart academics who read books all day?”

Hadrien laughs. “That’s a good point. Maybe I can throw my books at the enemy. Bore them to death with my 28 page thesis. Peer-review is a bitch, motherfuckers! How do you like me now, you fuck-eyed monkeyblights?!”

“If you are inquiring about combat experience, I have been informed that Nymuë’s family each have at least three years experience in the armed forces,” Lotor replies. 

“My father is a military veteran and always stressed the importance of joining the army to understand the world, and to avoid becoming inured to the sacrifices of many before us,” Marcus replies. “While Uncle Charles and Aunt Nerva taught us different languages as children,” he chuckles, “father taught us military history and strategy. We all hated it except for tous bous. She soaked up every last word of his. She even went to the library during the summers to research all about it. I guess it all paid off handsomely in the end!”

“You all have my deepest gratitude. The abundant kindness that characterizes this family has irreversibly altered the fate of the universe at large. I could not have even imagined such a thing two phebes ago,” Flotor says with conviction. “That you would risk so much to assist someone you have just met is more than I can thank you for.” 

“That’s what family is for, bro,” Hadrien says warmly. “Now we have another member to help us beat Moo-moo at scrabble.”

“Hey! You can’t all team up against me!” 

“Oh, we can and we will.”

“So, how do you tell them apart, Mu?” asks Trajan. “Do you ever get them mixed up?” 

Nymuë turns beet red and doesn’t answer. Both Lotors laugh out loud.


	9. A Moment in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Countless words  
> count less  
> than the silent balance  
> between yin and yang”  
> ― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

“Alright,” Ezor says with a sly smile, “let’s see what you guys got.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Hadrien grins as he slams his fist into his palm and nods toward the gym.

“Can I change out of my pyjamas first?” Marcus asks, still yawning.

“No,” Zethrid says gruffly as she gives him a playful shove. “Just don’t tell me you guys fight like your sister.”

“Why, what do you mean?” asks Trajan.

“She doesn’t attack. It drives me insane.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hadrien says. “I’m not at all the pacifist she is.”

As the six of them head toward the gym to spar, Nymuë stays behind to talk with her parents and the Lotors. 

“Is there something you wish to tell us?” Lotor finally says with an excited grin. 

She exhales a shaky breath and shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry...” is all she can manage after a while and buries her face in her hands. “I’ve been so used to hiding my feelings that it didn’t occur to me to talk about...”

Flotor felt a deep sense of apprehension as she spoke. She wasn’t anywhere near as elated as he expected her to be.

“I... was so worried about you after not hearing anything after you left,” she starts again as she takes his hand. “The stress and the trauma that I’ve internalized from the last month...” she chokes on her words. “I’m scared about losing the baby...”

The tumultuous emotions they all felt at once evacuated any remaining conversation, leaving a simultaneously serendipitous, yet somber silence. Nerva draws her daughter into her arms and says softly, “let’s take it one day at a time. You haven’t lost the baby yet, so let’s focus on taking care of you.”

She takes another tremulous breath and tries again. “I mean, babies, sorry, I meant babies, they’re twins.” 

Lotor picks her up in what was a second crushing embrace for her that day. She tried to apologize for not telling him sooner but he didn’t mind at all. He was ecstatic. Flotor, on the other hand, having witnessed such devastating losses the past few days felt extremely conflicted. He couldn’t jeopardize her life or the lives of his children by bringing her back with him. She would object. But he simply could not risk losing her... a third time. He stands in distress and paces the room. As they turn to address his patent dismay, he says quietly but forcefully, “I cannot allow you to return with me. You are safe here in this reality. None of you should be coming with me and endangering your lives on account of my mistakes. I must do this alone.”

Lotor walks over to him, sets his hand on his shoulder, and promptly punches him in the gut. “For someone who spent an entire phebe with us, you really haven’t learned very much, have you? What are you going to do by yourself, over there? If you die, what do you think that will do to her emotional state while she’s carrying your children? If she does not miscarry now from the stress of your absence incommunicado, she most certainly would then. We won the war unequivocally because of Nymuë. You are absolutely going to bring her, and she is going as your right hand.”

“I cannot... I cannot lose her again.”

“And she cannot lose you, either. We therefore go together or you simply stay here and shirk your responsibility.”

Nymuë was about to approach Flotor when Charles does so instead and sets his hand on his shoulder. “Son, you needn’t shoulder anything alone, now. You have a family who cares for you and who will support you. Your chances of success are much greater as a team; I know it was extremely difficult to witness what you did in your own reality. And it is valiant of you to want to protect the one you love. But to ensure a chance at peace for future generations, you are going to need help. Take some time to think about it when the shock and the grief have a chance to wear off a bit.”

He smiles gratefully and thanks Charles for his reassurance. After a little while, Lotor announces his intentions to watch the sparring in the gymnasium as Nymuë’s parents opt to go grocery shopping for their additional guests. 

When everyone had left, she led him to her bedroom. He runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her cheek. There was so much he had intended on telling her, but as he savoured the sweetness of her kiss and ran his hands over her soft curves, any conversation would decidedly have to wait.


	10. Second Chances

Trajan straggles behind the rest of the group and opts not to spar with the others. After a bit of pacing and sighing, Hadrien comes over. 

“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I dunno. I really liked Lotor at first but after hearing about how he killed all those Alteans... I think Mu is making a mistake. No matter what I do, I can’t... I can’t let it go. It is the antithesis of everything I am, everything we are. I understand intellectually that perhaps he thought it was necessary, that his upbringing was horrible, but it sickens me to my core. And what is she thinking, dating the two of them at once?”

“Yeah, I thought he was super cool at first too. I don’t know how I feel about it now. I think I’m just numb with shock. We didn’t even know there was sentient life in the universe a year ago. And now she’s dating two ruthless killers from another galaxy and another reality! I don’t mind so much, her dating the two of them. It’s the Alteans that I can’t forgive. Fuck man, I thought my life was over when she disappeared. Now... I don’t know what we can do.”

“I realize it’s a lot to take in, especially for a bunch of softies like you guys,” Ezor says as she heads over to them. “I spent some time as a double agent infiltrating Sendak’s camp. Let me tell you what real ruthlessness is. He sacrificed his entire fleet just to attempt to trick Lotor into letting his guard down. He wanted to torture your sister in front of him before he murdered both of them. That’s the kind of cruelty that he grew up with. And I think I only realized how different Lotor was after we jumped ship and spent time with Haggar, Sendak, and then back with him. He’s lived a long time, and has made a lot of mistakes. But at least he’s trying to change. Your sister makes him a better person. He’s actually trying really hard to be someone worthy of her. Maybe give him a second chance, like he did for us.”

“Thanks, Ezor. I’ll think about it,” Trajan replies.

“May be it wouldn’t be a bad thing to hear his side of it,” Hadrien says as he turns to see Lotor walking in.


	11. Societal Norms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The death of dogma is the birth of morality.”  
> ― Immanuel Kant

Having spent the previous day engaging with Nymuë’s brothers, their candid discussions sufficiently prepared Lotor for their reception of his past... Trajan had tried to hide his revulsion with his casual remarks but Lotor still perceived it. It was going to be a difficult conversation, but if he had learned anything about peace-loving humans, it was that they respond better to truthfulness and contrition, rather than defensiveness and rationalization. It was so antithetical to the Galra code of honour and pride that he nearly turned around, rather than subject himself to a surgically precise repudiation. Trajan wasn’t a merciless type of man, but he was plainly protective of his little sister. It was interesting that her parents seemed to have an easier time adjusting than her brothers did. Lotor sighed. It was now or never. 

He almost winced when, instead of a room full of sparring combatants, he was met with room full of scrutinizing and disapproving glares. Even Marcus and Zethrid stopped mid-strike when he walked in. Hadrien, sensing his discomfort, eased him in by saying, “Hey, we were hoping to talk with you. Do you have some time?” 

“Um, should we go?” Ezor asks. 

Lotor shakes his head. “The more the merrier,” he says with marked resignation. 

It was Marcus who spoke this time, having seen the disappointment his cousins held, but who clearly recognized a need for fair and impartial adjudication. “It seems to me that you have anticipated our visceral rejection of your past actions, Lotor, but I think we’d like to hear your side of the story before we throw you to the curb.”

Lotor’s look of surprise caused him to laugh. Marcus sets his hand on his shoulder. “We’re not actually going to throw you to the curb. I know Nymuë never does anything halfheartedly or rashly; she must have good reason to keep both of you around.”

Lotor exhales and briefly looks unfocused into the distance. “I gave her the option of kicking me to the curb last night, as a matter of fact.”

“Wait, what?!” comes a chorus of exclamations.

“After discussing your philosophical mores and deep-seated convictions yesterday, I understood I could measure up to neither your personal nor your societal standards given my past iniquities, and therefore, asked her to pursue a man of purer moral standing.”

Trajan was quite moved by this revelation. He had expected Lotor to attempt to justify his past actions, and not exhibit such selflessness and... nobility? It just seemed so completely irreconcilable with his past actions, though. Trajan had steeled himself to reject whatever excuses Lotor gave, but his resolve now softened into a willingness to listen. 

Hadrien chuckles. “I can see that she was having none of it.” He stops to think for a moment. “I admit, if I was in your shoes, that would have been incredibly hard to do.” He had to hand it to him, he could see how much he loved her. 

Lotor nodded slightly in acknowledgement but wasn’t able to immediately say anything. He didn’t want to admit how much it broke him to say what he did last night. After a long pause, he turned away from them and said, “No, she would not hear of it. Her wilfulness is an entity of its own volition. Nevertheless, I understand what all of you must think of me given what you have just heard.”

“Well, hold on now,” Marcus says, “I would like to know how you could be such close friends with the paladins if what you did is as egregious as it appears to be on the surface. A jury is composed of twelve or more people. You have at least thirteen by my count who have weighed both sides and exonerated you.”

“I had the unique advantage of glimpsing my life in a plummeting free fall without Nymuë, via the life of my counterpart. Had she not nurtured my friendships with them, I likely would have perished in the quintessence field. She made a compelling moral argument on my behalf and altered the resultant course of our lives.”

“So there is something we are all missing. Would you be willing to elucidate your reasoning to help us understand?”

Lotor takes them on a journey into his childhood, his upbringing, and tales of his governess, touching upon Galran dogma of consequentialist thinking, of ruthless codes of honour, and of the realities of allowing the weak to perish. He then relates the horrors of witnessing the atrocities committed by his family. Haggar and Zarkon were an evil beyond what they could have imagined, having heard of the Komar and planetary destruction for the first time. Lotor did admit to killing out of revenge. But he also stated that the Alteans possessed the only key to unlocking the quintessence field that he knew of after centuries of research. The only way he could stop the mass slaughter of millions was to sacrifice the lives of hundreds.

“The bitterness that had accumulated over eons of slander and denigration of my Altean ancestry resulted in my original intention of creating a new Altean empire. Nymuë had keenly recognized the imbalance within me and sought to restore it by speaking the truth to me. I only fully appreciated her intervention upon hearing the other Lotor’s story. His generals abandoned him when he threatened them with annhilation and the rise a new Altean empire. Mine did so out of... a candid concern for my sudden volatility,” he admitted. 

“That’s why you were so interested in speaking with Père and us, yesterday, isn’t?” Trajan suddenly says as he steps toward Lotor. “You wanted to be a better emperor. Listen, I was pretty angry when I first heard about the Alteans. But I now understand that you had an incredibly difficult choice. I am sorry that you even had to make it.”

“I think all of us need some time to adjust to the space craziness. We said we’d be here for you, and we aren’t going to walk back on that,” Hadrien smiles.

“The other Lotor had it a bit rougher too. I feel badly for him,” Marcus says quietly. 

“I just want to know what number is on his hoodie,” Hadrien says. “Does he even get one? Do you guys have to share?”

Lotor laughed. “I was never told we were required to share our clothing.”

“Well, you already share a girlfriend so...” Hadrien is interrupted by Marcus slapping him upside the head.

“Ow, what? It’s true.”


	12. Prima Facie

“He did WHAT?!” exclaimed Flotor in disbelief and anger. Nymuë had been about to fall asleep when she casually mentioned that Lotor had almost left her the night before. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded she explained, he just thought he had killed too many people and was too similar to his father. 

“Always the gentleman,” he said with a laugh as his rage dissipated. “Did you know he was enraged in M&M when he discovered he was nearly betrothed to his sister?” He laughed again. “That small detail did not keep me from claiming you.” 

“Oh, I guess I missed that part.” She pauses and then says with a yawn, “I think you’re both honourable. You show it in slightly different ways...” He waited for her to finish but she was asleep already. He sighed. He knew exactly why she was so tired, that son of a bitch. To be fair, it was probably what he would have done, but they had to be more careful now and let her rest. As he watched her sleep, he noticed that she had regained a more healthful appearance since he first met her; her sallow complexion was replaced with a youthful glow and her thin frame had filled out a little more. Who was he kidding, actually? Her breasts were bigger, her hips were curvier, and he wanted her again. 

Reality seemed to be on hold once more, as in a dream. As dreary and dreadful as his own reality was, it all kind of fell away when he returned here. But what an utter fool he was. He thought back to his interactions with the team Voltron he first met. He hadn’t given the humans a second glance; his target from the beginning had been Allura. He knew with some certainty, that even if she had met him in the prison block, even if she had shown him the same boundless kindness, his idiot self would have used her to his advantage to get to Allura. He had to lose everything, and see a mirror image of himself falling in love with her, before he realized all of the beauty she possessed within and without. He was glad he never had a chance to hurt her like that... 

The second chance she gave him, on the other hand, was... he tried to think of an appropriate metaphor, but everything fell short. At that point, he felt a sudden prick on his arm. Her hand had relaxed and she dropped the hair comb she had removed from her hair. Lotor had never mentioned he was making one as well, but it had been fitted to interlock with the ones from him. 

As he read the heart-rending poem his alternate self had written for her, he felt a deep sense of remorse. They had done everything possible to accommodate him, when they already shared a deep and abiding love, and what had he done? He had taken advantage of her, and did so again by failing to use protection, and now, she was carrying his children, when she should be carrying those of her actual intended. He had pursued his own happiness to such an extent, that he hadn’t thought about how his selfishness might impact others. 

He quietly got up and headed for a shower to clear his head. If he wasn’t going to be a father, he might have also considered going the route his counterpart did yesterday because he really was a right potating fucktato after all. As he steps into the bathroom, there was a set of clothing awaiting him with a small note. His breath caught when he saw that it read: ‘You are loved. Stop overthinking everything.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the epilogue might come out a bit earlier than intended, to coincide with Halloween. Then you can stick around for the battle in part 5, if you want, knowing there’s a happy ending. But honestly, if you’re tired of war, I don’t blame you. I’m tired of war. Like just stop fighting already. Killing people since the dawn of time isn’t enough for you, you birdshits?


	13. A New Beginning

With the war finally over in Flotor’s reality, many of the alliance members returned to their own reality in time for the new year celebrations. Team Voltron and Nymuë’s family all stayed for the next month to negotiate peace treaties within the Galra empire and stabilize the power imbalances that remained. They would help rebuild a new society, and find solutions to quell the infighting within violent galra factions. There remained a massive, seemingly insurmountable obstacle, however, and as Flotor sat down with Nymuë’s family the next day, he was stricken with sadness and heartache. 

“My original intention, as you are all aware, was to rebuild an empire with access to unlimited amounts of quintessence. I cannot find a comparable solution that would allow me to depart permanently with the Sincline ships. I...” he paused to look at Nymuë despairingly. The thought of leaving her and his unborn children broke his heart.

She smiled and took his hand. “Hadrien and I have already been discussing this. Take a deep breath and don’t worry about it.” Her soothing yet confident manner once again calmed his distraught spirit and frayed nerves. He looked at her with surprise and wonder.

“I know both of you once said you wanted to give the populace unlimited amounts of quintessence, but I hate to break it to you, quintessence is a non-renewable and limited resource,” she says. “Its extraction method carries too many risks as a viable, long-term solution. I have not mentioned it before because both of you likely would have rejected my proposals without the proper... motivation.”

“So, the solutions we propose in the interim,” starts Hadrien, “are the usage of quintessence to fuel research into novel ways of transitioning the galra empire from a type 1 to a type 2 civilization according to the Kardashev scale. Although you are incredibly advanced as a space-faring race, your energy reliance on a non-renewable resource is primitive.”

“We propose you create a research team to harvest energy from stars, antimatter, and black holes,” continues Nymuë. “This will give the universe comparable energy sources that do not carry an equivalent risk. The ultimate goal is to harvest dark energy.”

“The resources necessary for this endeavour will be paid by the quintessence you gather now. It may require you to spend time here in the beginning, but it should allow you to finally solve your energy needs, while also giving you time to create a democratic republic, and then, finally, live with us!” Hadrien says excitedly.

The Lotors were floored. She was right. They would not have listened without the proper motivation. Lotor narrows his eyes. “Did you leverage your own children as insurance to gain access to Oriande, to win the war in this reality, and to compel us to research new energy sources?!”

Nymuë smugly replies, “Come on, I’m a doctor. Do you think I would let him forget to use protection in a moment of heated passion?”

Flotor didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. It was an incredible gamble to do what she did... she was as infuriatingly manipulative as he was. Only she was much smarter. Little did either of the Lotors realize, in that moment, that their lives would forever change, parenting a troop of little girls who were equally wily and wilful, if not more so, than their mother.


	14. Epilogue

Lotor awoke alone in the quintessence field, lethargic, and leaden. All of his systems were alarming and he had difficulty even lifting his arms to access his console. He had to get out of here. As he piloted his Sincline Robeast out of the field and back to his own reality, he started to panic. What was going on? He instinctively reached for his wedding ring. It wasn’t there. He looked down at his suit. It was the one he had traditionally worn, not the quintessence impermeable one they... what was the date? The dread that filled his being seized his breath: it was the same day he fought the paladins. But what happened to his rescue, to Nymuë, to... his baby girls? He tried to set a course for home but the coordinates... didn’t exist. His thoughts were racing and his heart was pounding into his chest. She couldn’t have been just a dream. His breathing accelerated as he struggled to think of a solution. He loved her, and he loved his children... despair enveloped him at the thought of a life without them.

“No!” he cried as he awoke in a cold sweat. There was a soft light on in the room and he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned to see her already awake, feeding one of the babies. 

“Another bad dream?” she asks sympathetically as she cups his face with her free hand.

“I... am afraid so,” he answers, still quite shaken. He bends down to take in the intoxicating baby scent of the little head of fuzzy, coral-hued hair, give it a gentle kiss, and exhale his relief. Brushing the sleep from his eyes, he holds them close to him and strokes the downy soft head for a long time. They both chuckle as a fat little hand reaches up to clutch one of his fingers tightly, pulling it into her chest, refusing to relinquish it. This was one of his favourite things in the world. 

Nymuë felt badly. Both Lotors regularly had recurring traumatic nightmares which always centred on tragic loss. It would be an arduous process toward healing, but at least, neither of them were alone anymore, and had a large network of friends and family from which to draw support, encouragement, and love. She herself had considerable experience in treating PTSD during her stint in the army and was able to refer them to the appropriate professionals; both of them admitted that their therapy sessions yielded a marked improvement in their symptoms, more so than any previously cobbled together intervention. Nerva, Hadrien, and Trajan also had a wealth of connections, resources, and knowledge to assist in their long road to recovery. Sometimes, it was difficult for either of them to believe how perfectly Nymuë and her family met every need they had. 

Little Anaïs had fallen asleep again and she was gently set her back in her bassinet. It had been three and a half years since both he and his alternate self had been rescued from the quintessence field, and nearly two years since Eos and Esmé were born. The twins were mostly Altean in appearance, their rose-coloured hair a beautifully unanticipated expression of their father’s wintry white and their grandmother’s fiery red locks. The girls were every bit as tempestuous and mischievous as their mother in personality. It was mostly a joyous occasion when they found out she was expecting again. It was, however, a bit of a bombshell to discover they were expecting twins once more. Nymuë had silently cursed the godforsaken genetics that made twins run in families. Avélie and Anaïs were Lotor’s own little girls but neither father made any differentiation. They were all loved just the same. 

Sometimes, sleep mercifully came back to him. Not tonight, though. He needed to have her. When she came back to bed, he took her in his arms, pushed her down and desperately made love to her. 

Nymuë had just drifted off to sleep in his arms when the other baby started crying. And she was still feeding her when the other Lotor awoke with a nightmare. She ran her hand down her face in exhaustion. For all of the patience and compassion she was capable of, having four small children and two large children to care for was... entirely excessive. She gently cupped his face and asked how he was doing. He couldn’t even answer, he was so shaken. He, too, held her close while stroking little Avélie’s soft pink hair, and smiled his amusement as a pudgy little fist encircled a single finger, clenching it tightly. Flotor sighed in relief. He hadn’t lost them, after all. His dream had been much worse; he too, had been dumped back into the quintessence field but escaped to find himself in a reality overrun by Haggar and Sendak, one where Nymuë never even existed. She sighed and resigned herself to another long and sleepless night. He always wanted to make love to her afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol the tropiest trope of all time works. IT WORKS!! SEASONS 7 & 8 ARE ONE BIG NIGHTMARE!! HAHAHAHAHA!
> 
> Can’t wait to draw four little pink-haired girls in Halloween costumes!


	15. Second Epilogue

Lotor received a message from Sam in the other reality stating the paladins had just returned safely. As predicted, they had also experienced a time dilation phenomenon after their battle, but additionally encountered a fraught journey back to earth, spanning a year and a half. Sam had updated the paladins on the tremendous efforts of all the people from this alternate reality; much of earth’s population and the universe at large owed their lives to them. After his extensive explanation, they deeply regretted misjudging their Lotor and hoped to apologize in person. Sam had mentioned that this alternate reality team Voltron had rescued not just their own Lotor, but the one here as well, from the quintessence field. Subsequently, he had developed such close friendships with them, that he ultimately decided to take up residence there, further exacerbating their guilt at attacking and abandoning him. Allura, in particular, felt deeply remorseful at the way she had dealt with everything. It was now crystal clear things would have ended differently had she been in control of her anger and powered down her lion. 

Flotor took the call and stated he would be happy to speak with team Voltron. They took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was wearing a hoodie and sweat pants before Hunk started by saying he was sorry for the way things went down. The rest of the paladins followed suit and expressed their regret at not doing more to listen to him. 

“It is quite alright,” he replies. “In fact, it was because of my presence here that we were able to so quickly overcome our opposition, thus enabling us to assist your reality.” He smiles brightly. “It was a fortuitous turn of events, as a matter of fact.”

“Lotor, I... I am so sorry for what I said to you,” Allura begins. “I’ve thought a lot recently about what you said to me about us, and... if it was because of me that you... I’m sorry, will you be coming back to...” She was interrupted by a little blur of pink shooting across the room, followed shortly by another. 

“Papa, papa!” cries an enthusiastic little voice, “qui est-ce?!” (Who is it?!) She climbs into his lap and squishes her face into the screen. 

“Ne, ne, anata wa dare?!” squeals another excitedly. (Hey, who are you?!)

“Aw, they’re so cute!” swoons Pidge. “Look at that pink hair!”

Flotor struggles to contain both children and reply coherently but he manages to say, “I, too, owe all of you an apology. I...”

“Papa!” Eos cries as she tugs his hair. He tries to shush them but to no avail. “Since they are too young to accommodate further conversation, l’d like to introduce you to my daughters, Eos and Esmé.” There were gasps of surprise, especially from Allura. So that’s why he wasn’t coming back, they all thought to themselves. Who could the mother be, they wondered. He speaks to his girls very gently to encourage them to say hello. 

“Salut, mes amis!” says Esmé cheerfully. 

“Ni hao ma!” waves Eos.

Nymuë bursts through the door and slides into the room in socked feet, with two more babies in tow. “I’m so sorry, cheri, they ran away when I was changing these two. Eos! Esmé! Venez ici! (Come here!)” She looks up to see a room full of familiar faces. 

“Oh hey, I know you,” Lance says. “Oh, what’s your name, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“Guinevere, right? You were a Garrison medic,” asks Shiro.

“Yes, but my name is Nymuë in this reality. It’s nice to meet all of you! I admit this is somewhat strange, since I know all of you quite well here.”

Esmé gasps. “Hola, tío Taka y tío Lance! (Hi, uncle Takashi and uncle Lance!)”

Both parents laugh at the shock on their faces. Nymuë explains, “the Lance and Shiro in this reality are his closest friends and are godparents to the girls, actually.” 

“Woar,” growls Eos, “I’m a lion!”

“She turns lionhood into an art form,” laughs Nymuë. “The red one is her favourite!”

“One could say it’s the Art of Woar,” Flotor says dryly. Whether it was because of her unadulterated exhaustion or because of his unanticipated delivery, Nymuë laughed so hard she could barely stand. He caught her and smiled affectionately at her, as he took one of the babies into his lap.

As she waves away her loss of composure, and wipes her tears, she says, “The Art of Woar! Oh my god, that was hilarious. You guys keep chatting, the girls have a piano lesson now. I’m so glad you all made it home safely,” she says warmly to the paladins, as she kisses his head and turns to leave. They could hear her continuing to laugh about it in the hallway.

Avélie sat transfixed in his lap, with wide violet eyes, watching all the new faces and listening to all their voices. She immediately became the center of attention, as the team gushed over her chubby cheeks and fairy pink hair. A little fist was tightly balled around one of her father’s fingers as he tenderly stroked her hand.

“Oh my god, how cute are they?! And smart too!” Pidge exclaims. “They can’t be more than two, right? And they speak in full sentences in more languages than all of us put together know!”

“Ba ba!” the baby squeals in reply.

“It is fortunate they take after their mother, and not after the addlepated egg who nearly got himself and all of you killed.” All of the paladins laughed. He was much more relaxed and humorous than he used to be. As they continued their casual conversation, they discovered he had a wicked sense of humour, a sharp wit, and an overall easiness that contrasted greatly with his detached demeanour before. It was abundantly clear he was superbly happy and they were glad for him. 

Allura mechanically said her good-byes as they signed off. She was stunned by the entire experience; it was incredibly surreal to see him with a beautiful wife and a gorgeous gaggle of feathery-haired geese, when he had said that they were meant to be together. He had even pleaded with her in the end but she had been too blinded by her anger to understand where he was coming from. It had been... a foolish mistake to reject him but the only thing to do now was move on. She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

For him, the closure they gave him stitched up the last tear in his battle-worn heart. He stood and very gently lifted his sweet baby to rest against his shoulder. As she grasped his hair tightly and babbled her delight, he exhaled a breath of contentedness and kissed her soft cheeks, wrapped in the warmth of serenity and wholeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo,  
> What the hell am I doing here,  
> I don’t belong here, I don’t belong here.
> 
> \- Radiohead


	16. Elevenses Epilogue

“How did it go, love?” Nymuë asks as Flotor steps out from his conference call with the paladins. Avélie had fallen asleep on his shoulder, still clutching a fistful of white hair. He treasured moments like this and was seldom willing to set the babies down to sleep; he simply held her close and gently stroked her tiny back. 

“They certainly were better disposed towards me than the last time I saw them,” he laughs. 

“It was a comedy of errors, unfortunately! I hadn’t meant to let the little tsunamis loose while you were having a serious conversation.”

“I had forgotten to lock the door as well. However, I could never call the presence of my family an error. I must say, the paladins were quite taken by the girls. And it perhaps alleviated some awkwardness. It was a bit difficult to know what to say to them. How do you apologize for trying to kill someone?”

“How did they respond?”

“Quite graciously, in fact. This time, they were fairly forgiving toward my previous actions and understanding of the corrupting effects of quintessence. Unfortunately, it was a somewhat difficult reminder of my past failings and carelessness.” He sighed. “I continue to count myself undeserving of the happiness that enlightens and encompasses every aspect of my existence,” he says softly as he smells the fuzzy head and nuzzles her wispy hair. 

“It’s harder to think about the Alteans now that you have children, isn’t it?”

He nods reluctantly as he looks into the distance. 

“Now that we have transitioned to alternative fuel sources, what have I truly been striving for all those long centuries? All of the precious lives that I sacrificed were all for naught. Had I only realized sooner... “

She sets her hand gently over his and kisses it. “I’ve analyzed all the possibilities available to you, knowing this was how both of you would feel. The path you took had the highest chance of success in ending the war, given the resources you had at your disposal. We will remember their sacrifices, not just as individuals but as a society, and in doing so, ever strive to uphold the peace that can so easily stripped away.” 

“Thank you, for... everything,” he says tenderly. 

“We’ll get through all the tumultuous emotions one day at a time,” she says gently as she kisses his hand again. 

 

Meanwhile, in the other reality...

“I can’t get over how cute those babies were,” Pidge says adoringly. 

“They were too smart to be only two,” Lance says, recalling his own siblings at age two.

“Oh, they weren’t more than two years old,” Hunk replies. “Think about it. He’s only been gone for three and a half years. If you do the math, they couldn’t be more than twenty seven months old.”

“And if they are twenty seven months old, that means...” Pidge trails off.

A moment of clarity simultaneously dawned on all of them as they all mouthed a silent “oh.” He had just had his heart broken. All of his allies had abandoned him. But the medic was the one who saved him. Those kids were undeniably the result of a massive rebound and nightingale effect, shaken and stirred.

“Yeah, I don’t know about you... I feel even worse about it now.” Pidge says as she walks away. As the others went their separate ways, Allura was left feeling the worst of all.


	17. Luncheon Epilogue

The first time he discovered that humans dress in costumes and hand out candy on a yearly basis, he was flabbergasted. Halloween instantly became his favourite day of all time, given how much he loved story telling and role playing. Flotor went all out every year. The fact that there were two of them to run the Galra republic enabled them to split their duties and spend most of their time living on earth. He decorated their house, carved fantastic pumpkins, spent all year preparing their themed costumes, and of course, was right in the thick of things, taking the babies trick-or-treating. The babies were finally old enough for him to do what he had been wanting to do from the beginning. He was going as Sephiroth this year. 


	18. Happy Halloween, Mooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor as Cloud, Nymuë as Tifa, Anaïs as a chocobo, Avélie as a moogle, Flotor as Sephiroth, Eos as Master Tonberry, and Esmé as a Cactuar. The latter three are the deadliest combo I’ve ever seen. (Also, Esmé is a Cactuar because they run away all the time.)


	19. Afternoon Tea Epilogue

Whereas Halloween quickly became his doppelgänger’s preferred holiday, Lotor found himself indelibly delighted by Christmas. In addition to Pidge and Hunk, he developed very close relationships with Nymuë’s family, and especially loved spending time with his new relatives.

When Trajan had first started training Romelle, he had strictly maintained a professional relationship with her, despite her unabashed affections toward him. Whereas he had dismissed her romantic advances as immaturity mixed with a degree of cultural unfamiliarity, she truly was in love with him. He was kind to a fault, exceptionally intelligent, and devoted to helping those in need. She, of course, reasoned that those were the main reasons, but had to admit that he was extraordinarily handsome too. His perception of her started to change, however, when he asked her why she chose her career path. She finally told him that her brother was among those killed by Lotor, and that despite the bitterness of loss so cruelly forced upon her, she had been tremendously compelled by the compassionate life his sister lived; Nymuë healed people not just with her actions, but also with her words. He was so stunned by her magnanimous and gentle spirit, he overruled his inward objections and swept her into an embrace; as he held her close in that moment, everything started to change. In a perfectly strange twist of fate, it was Romelle who ultimately helped Trajan fully forgive his new brother, and it was Trajan who would propose to her, thus affording her kinship as Lotor’s new sister. 

Romelle continued to find healing and happiness in her new family, deeply thankful for following the path of forgiveness; for it was within forgiveness, that she discovered a kind of resolute freedom, unyielding to creviced sorrows and unflappable in the abyssal throes of devastation. She now understood, the full weight of the words once spoken by her sister: only love can drive out hate, and only light can drive out darkness. Although it was already a momentous occasion, to be celebrating the birth of their first child, none of it would have been possible without those first words uttered by Nymuë: words of truth, of power, and of healing. Romelle laughed inwardly, as she resembled her bard character more than she realized. Nymuë had become her closest confidante, sister, and friend, stricken with a similar loss, yet, ever so steadfast in her convictions. She looked lovingly at the little bundle who already resembled his dark-haired father more than anything. Kieran was the perfect name for him. 

For the Lotors, the birth of their nephew reduced them both to a blubbering pile of tears. Neither took for granted the immensity of absolution granted to them and both were tremendously grateful for the ways in which Romelle and Trajan extended genuine acceptance and love to them. This, in turn, started to truly release them from all of the accumulated acridity toward Haggar and Zarkon, for if Romelle could forgive, then perhaps they could let go as well. The birth of this baby represented new beginnings for everyone who had suffered unimaginable loss and heartache. As Lance told him once long ago, he would one day understand why uncles spoil their nephews and nieces. Flotor was going to spoil this kid rotten. And amid the snow-covered streets and bustling town square, the holly boughs and pine wreaths, the warm hearth and happy carolling, Lotor found incomparable joy. In more ways than one, everything had come full circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t write more... too much space dust interfering...


	20. Dinner Epilogue

“This is undeniably the worst guitar solo I have ever heard,” grumbled Lotor as he was changing Anaïs into a cozy hooded onesie, in response to 21st Century Schizoid Man being played on the radio.

“I would liken it to a torturous bagpipe swordfight between roguish archetypes with no thumbs,” Flotor replied without missing a beat, as he dressed Avélie in a matching onesie. 

“It is also somewhat reminiscent of the squawking caterwaul of headless robot chickens in a duel to the death. I am surprised given that King Crimson has produced some exceptional music.”

“‘Tis true. This one, for example, is exceptionally bad. This little peach, on the other hand,” he coos as he picks up Avélie, “is truly exceptional. Do you resemble peaches?! Yes, you do! Are you peachy-keen? Is that you?!”

She found that extraordinarily funny and her adorable baby laughter filled the room. The cherry-blossom curls never failed to shoot arrows straight through his heart and bend him to their mercy. Flotor was now as softhearted as he had ever been in his life. 

Nymuë giggled as she stood at the doorway watching them. Although she had been the one to make them laugh when she first met them, the things that came out of their mouths now made her laugh everyday. She loved their dry humour and the way they could carry on with each other in a single, fluid stream of hilarity. 

“A da!” the babies squealed in reply. 

“And who’s ready for a day of mind-numbing cognitive stimulation?” Lotor asks in exaggerated motherese, as he picks her up, and sets her against his shoulder.

“Ma ma!” Anaïs cries as she proceeds to clamp her toothless mouth on his chin.

Lotor laughs. “I cannot argue with that.”


	21. Supper Epilogue

“You mean to tell me,” Lotor says incredulously as they are readying the nursery for Eos and Esmé, “that humans have marketplaces entirely dedicated to toys?!” The crisp winter sunlight fills the room as the Beatles play softly in the background.

“Well, yeah, if there’s a demand for something, it will drive the market. People love to indulge their children,” Nymuë replies as she folds the little baby clothes and puts them away.

“First of all,” Flotor interrupts, “we now live in a society wherein life and liberty are fundamental rights, capital and even corporal punishment are outlawed, and presumption of innocence is an inherent right. Nextly, we discover you humans cater to every imaginable pleasure one could possibly desire. How is it you even manage to function as a society?” Nymuë hears a hint of disdain in his voice, an occurrence that was increasing in frequency lately.

“It is little wonder the paladins’ immediate instinct on discovering the quantum abyss was unequivocal condemnation,” Lotor muses as he approaches Nymuë and sets his hand on her belly. “I am ever grateful you stood by me even as I was in violation of morals by which you abide.”

“Can you violate codes of conduct you’ve never known, love?” she smiles affectionately.

“Had you chosen to turn away from him, I would not be here either. It is not a fact I have ever taken lightly,” Flotor says as he watches the snow fall lightly out the window.”

“Hey,” Nymuë says suddenly, “do you think the Lotor in the Altean empire reality is a non-cog?”

“No,” they both say simultaneously.

“Why?”

“Because you are not allowed to rescue him,” Flotor says pointedly. “I already have to share you with another me. I refuse to share you with a third party.”

“I do not know what you are complaining about,” Lotor remarks with more ire than usual. “You are the one who encroached upon my relationship with her.”

“What if he is a noncog? I promise I won’t fall in love with him too, if it makes you feel better.”

“I have always wondered,” Flotor continues, “why you love us both. I cannot say I necessarily feel the same toward your alternate self.”

Nymuë shrugs. “The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”

“That was a trick question, by the way,” Lotor replies. “You cannot guarantee what your heart will feel should you meet this third Lotor. You are therefore not allowed to rescue him.”

“Hey! I’m not going to fall in love with him, alright! And even if I did, I wouldn’t compromise the limited time we have by bringing him into the ... fold. But now that you’ve said it,” she turns to Lotor, “if you are opposed to three, why wouldn’t you be opposed to two? Do you really not get jealous?”

“I have always wondered that myself, as well,” Flotor replies. “Well, what say you?”

He sighs. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Then why didn’t you say no at the beginning?” 

“I am willing to endure it all if it means he can find a way to prolong your life... if it means I can have a little more time with you. I am aware he may not succeed, and the remainder of your excruciatingly short lifetime is further halved by time split between the two of us.” He pauses thoughtfully and then continues to say, “or at least that is how I felt at the beginning. But as time went on, I realized I had no reason to feel this way, for neither has your love for me abated, nor your devotion to me waned. As it turns out, it is an optimal arrangement for all of us.” He then glances at his counterpart and says, “I was not being deceptive, however, when I said it would be a form of cruel and unusual punishment to keep him from you, given the attraction I felt for you in the beginning.”

She was about to say something when she is interrupted.

“Speak for yourself,” Flotor says. “I may have arrived late in the game, but I feel jealous all the damn time.”

Nymuë giggles. “So do you not view each other as yourselves, then?”

“It is precisely because I see him as myself that I feel jealous. He is everything that I am not. And if the situation were reversed, there is no way I would have done the same. He would have been able to steal you from me, should he so desire, but he is such a gentleman he never would have. Which by its own merit, should be sufficient means to usurp our relationship. So the bottom line is: you are not allowed to save another Lotor.”

“I was unaware you felt that way,” Lotor admits, chuckling a bit. “Are we truly that different, aside from a few artistic preferences?”

“I cannot write poetry like you do, you son of a bitch.”

“Well, I am not a comparable story teller.”

“I am not as honourable as you are.”

“Nymuë almost died because of my carelessness.”

“And she could have died in my reality because of my inadequacies.”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty. It’s not a merit-based system. I know it will take some time to get used to, but I would not have left either of you for the other.” She had felt a simmering tension rising lately between the two of them, and was glad to have poked the bear early enough. Before they could ask, she said, “The non-cog proposal was also a trick question. I know he’s not a non-cog, he’s too intelligent to be trapped in such a way. He’s likely a member of the Guns of Gamara. It was a roundabout way to get you two to open up about what’s been bothering you.” As if by predetermination, ‘Let it Be,” starts playing in the background and softly remedies the pain of inadequacy, while her inerrant affirmations gently lift away their insecurities. 

Lotor gratefully holds her close. She always knew what was bothering both of them. 

“Why don’t we go to the toy store? You can choose something for the twins and something for Aria since Shiro and Adam are coming for tea later.”

“Are you certain you are up to the task?” Flotor asks with genuine concern.

“Yeah. There’s nothing I’d like more. Though I suspect you may be disappointed with the storybook selection and will probably want to write and illustrate your own children’s books. Maybe that’s something you two can work on together. Babies love rhyme and children love clever stories.” 

It was Flotor’s turn to embrace her. She always knew what they needed.


	22. Midnight Snack Epilogue

“Nymuë,” Flotor says one spring day as they were walking on a ruddy, trodden path near her home, “although you have never mentioned it, your AI once told me you were quite cross with the Allura in my reality. Have you yet had an opportunity to relinquish those feelings?” The sun shone warmly on them, as a cool, crisp breeze invigorated their senses. She was eight months along in her pregnancy and due any day now, so she had difficulty mobilizing and ambulating.

“Are you trying to induce labour?” she quips.

He chuckled. “I actually did not wish you to be unduly burdened by residual anger. I am quite familiar with its exhausting effects.”

“Thank you for being concerned for me.” She was becoming short of breath so they sat down on a nearby bench and listened to the susurrous swirling of the wind through the elegant canopy of budding trees. “I can only assume she had said the same things to you guys as she did here. But she and I were off to a rough start from the beginning. I despised the way she discriminated against the Galra and was infuriated by her utter ignorance of war. She once criticized Kolivan for his overt caution as the cause of the ongoing war, and pinned the blame squarely on the Blade for their failure to stop it. That is akin to someone not knowing the difference between the CIA and the Navy SEALs and blaming the CIA director for taking too long to take down a terrorist. The level of disrespect for those risking their lives was extraordinary. Because I served in the army, I was particularly irked by such lack of decorum. Especially since her own father failed spectacularly even with the power of the Voltron lions and an entire army at his disposal, in addition to the surrounding armies of his allies, the hypocrisy of such criticism was absolutely appalling and downright embarrassing. 

“After this was said, she ended up firing indiscriminately at her own ally, having allowed her emotions to make decisions rather than allowing reason and logic to prevail, and destabilized the entire Galra empire as a result, which ultimately would have lead to the deaths of millions more people without our intervention. I was absolutely furious at her moronic incompetence.

“However, ignorance was not necessarily her fault, I realized. She came from a peaceful society that was suddenly thrown into the horrors of war. What she did not know, were things not taught to her. Is it anyone’s fault, in the end? Adulthood doesn’t come from a handbook. Unless someone has said to you, you must learn history, or history will repeat itself, would you know to park yourself in the library everyday and read until your eyes hurt? Unless you had your family killed in the aftermath of a bloody war, would you desperately try to stop it from happening again?”

She paused and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “I had the great fortune of learning from an uncle who was a military general. And older brothers who served in the military before I did. I had a father who taught me philosophy and history, and a mother who taught me great kindness and compassion in the face of strife and loss. So, I was perhaps more fortunate than she was; I cannot fault her for that. I must say, even though I no longer feel any ill-will toward her, my assessment of her is this: her critical thinking skills require much honing, she is woefully unknowledgeable about history, and she lacks the steady hand that is requisite of a measured, and skillful leader. I hope the monarchy system will be permanently abolished among the Alteans; peace and stability thrive in meritocracies, not monarchies.”

He drew her close and rested his chin on top of her head. As he placed his hand on her belly, he could feel a tiny leg push against him. He weighed her words carefully. Even he had not realized the extent to which Allura was lacking, so great had his infatuation been.

“You and Lance are better than I am,” she says after a while.

“Why do you say that?”

“You both fell in love with her despite her disdain toward both of you in the beginning. If a man treated me in such a manner, I would have kicked his fucking ass to the curb.”

Flotor laughed and then sighed. “I wonder if I was more in love with the idea of her. My conversations with her forever remained superficial and I realize in hindsight we did not know each other very well.” He smiled thoughtfully. “I do not believe, for example, that we ever shared our preferred colour,” he said, thinking back to her conversation with Honerva. 

“Why did you wait so long to start a family?” she asked tentatively, already suspecting she knew the answer.

“I would imagine you know my reply already. I could not risk Zarkon seeing my children as a threat to the throne, nor could I risk seeing my family tortured or killed on some godforsaken whim of fury. Ending the war was the only way I could ensure their safety.”

“Have they ever killed a woman you loved?” she whispered. 

He couldn’t answer that question.


	23. Mini Epilogue

Because she had a generous maternity leave of two years, Nymuë was mostly at home taking care of Eos and Esmé after their births. Unfortunately for Lotor, today would be his first time at home alone taking care of the girls, while she dropped in at the Garrison as an astromedical consultant. Even Flotor was away assisting the Altean colony. The twins were eight months old now and just starting to crawl.

“Dr. Beaumont, an urgent call from your husband,” states the secretary.

When she turned on her communicator, he was beside himself. 

“They’re so sick, and not eating, what do I do? Are they dying? Should I call these so-called emergency services?”

She took one look at the babies, both with their flushed faces, rapid breathing, and overall lethargy, and tried her best not to laugh.

“Lotor, they have fevers. Measure their temperature, give them the dose of medicine that I’ve written out for you and they will perk up when their fevers break.”

“Okay, but the dose you’ve written is different than what the bottle says! Are they dying? Why is it different?”

“They are not dying, and you better not call 911 for this. My calculations are weight-based and the bottle is a general estimate based on age and weight. Use my dosage.”

“I have never seen this before, are you certain they will be alright? What if they do not improve? Perhaps I should call 911 just in case.”

“You call 911, and I’ll come home and kill you myself to make it a real emergency.”

“Should I take them to the doctor?”

“No! Ughhhhh,” she could no longer suppress her vocal fry, “I’m a doctor! They’ve only been sick for a couple days with a low-grade fever. It’s just a cold virus. Take some deep breaths, love. They’ll be fine.”

“When are you coming home?” he asks hopefully. The stifled giggles behind her were becoming increasingly louder. Trajan had walked into the reception area and watched the whole exchange. Lotor was just like every first-time dad he had ever seen bringing their kid, who had had a fever for an hour, into emergency.

“I have another presentation, cheri. I won’t be home for another couple hours.”

The look of devastation made Trajan laugh out loud as he approaches the screen. “Hey Lotor, I’m actually done for today. I can drop by and give you a hand.” The subsequent relief on his face made Trajan laugh even harder.

“I would appreciate that tremendously. I am also grateful for all of the medical professionals in your family. Attempting parenthood without them is too daunting to even consider at the moment.”

“I’m being selfish, to be honest with you, because I just want to kiss the fuzzy heads. They are the cutest babies I have ever seen. And the fact that you guys call them peaches... and the little peachy-pink heads,” Trajan coos in a falsetto voice. “Okay, I’m coming right now,” he yells halfway out the door.

Nymuë giggles after he leaves. “You’re doing just fine, love.”

“I think I will let Trajan give the medicine. What if I give the wrong dose? Then we will have to call the poison centre and take them to emergency.”

“Lotor, tell me again how you made it through life until now?”


	24. Random Head Canons (everything from science to sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is weirdly scientific for a fictional world, but I dunno, I like it.

The purple skin of the Galra is from a pigment that is superbly evolved for space travel. Akin to melanin blocking harmful UV rays from the sun, it shields from galactic cosmic rays, solar particle radiation, other types of harmful, ionizing radiation in space. It is therefore not because of a hemocyanin or methemoglobinemia that would render blood blue or purple. The Galra and the Alteans both bleed red, and have hemoglobin-based blood. (I base this on the fact that their tongues are pink)

The Galra and Alteans are stronger than humans because they have a larger skeletal frame and denser muscles, and are able to apply greater torque and strength output, however, muscle composition and biochemical conduction are the same as in human physiology. On the other hand, because of human evolution occurring in the plains of Africa, where our ancestors developed the endurance to hunt for sustained distances, we flat out beat both races when it comes to any type of endurance or long distance running. Neither of the Lotors can keep up with Nymuë or Shiro when they train for marathons. 

(If the show were up to me, it would make sense for Galra to be super strong, given their history and traditions, but not the Alteans. The latter were diplomatic and peace-loving, favouring intelligence and magical abilities. Favoured evolution of one ability in a species, should come at the cost of others.)

I imagine the Lotors have never gotten sick before. They are not anymore susceptible to pathogens than they are to autoimmune diseases or cancers because of the quintessence in their DNA. This would explain why they panic and basically lose any semblance of critical thinking when their daughters get sick. 

Any Alteans who choose to live on earth would have to be careful in their interactions with people. We’ve been co-evolving with deadly microbes for tens of thousands of years but any exposure to these pathogens, and the Alteans could easily die (from a flu virus, for example,) having no immunological resistance to them. Luckily, for Romelle and the other Alteans, Nymuë and Trajan being extremely cognizant of this, developed a schedule for immunizations and limited their exposure to small children and sick people. 

It was therefore agreed that earth could not host any large populations of alien races, for fear of pandemic annihilation. Like how the Spanish Flu in the 1920s wiped out 50 million people. Mars was terraformed for the Alteans, and Venus was terraformed for the Galra. Earth did not yet have the technology to create a magnetic field when the alliance took charge of the planets; magnetic fields protect planetary life from cosmic radiation. As a result, the combined efforts of the Galra and interplanetary scientists not only successfully created habitable planets from Mars and Venus, they also solved the problem of earth’s weakening magnetic field.

(If we are biologically compatible enough to interbreed with a species, then it stands to reason they are similar enough to contract our diseases. Particularly the rapidly evolving ones, such as the flu, which can already jump between avian and mammalian families.)

The constant threat of danger for thousands of years conditioned certain behaviours and responses in the Lotors. Neither of them drink alcohol or take any sort of recreational drugs; they simply couldn’t afford an impairment of judgement and reflex should a critical situation suddenly demand their full attention. Nymuë doesn’t drink either, knowing that alcohol is the primary cause of many cancers. Her time was already limited; she wasn’t going to risk shortening it further. 

The Lotors wanted more children. Nymuë did not. They finally convinced her to have one more. She threatened to put them up for adoption if it was another set of twins. (One of my coworkers has two sets of twins, which is crazy). They begged and pleaded for her not to and promised to assume all childcare responsibilities if they were twins. She said she was joking and that she never would have done so, but a promise is a promise, and they couldn’t walk back on it. 

Flotor loved styling and brushing her hair, and was so sad when she said she wanted to cut it, that she didn’t have the heart to make him unhappy. He also continued to be a big flirt. He loved sex. Lots of it. He liked to choose her clothes, and dressed (and undressed) her to his heart’s content. Physical affection was something he always craved and sought

It was something Lotor did as well, to a certain extent, but he had a wider appetite for learning. He spent a lot of time in their library, enjoying thumbing through old books, and reading them to his heart’s content. He wrote her a lot of poetry and expressed his affection thusly. He was a bit smarter than his alternate self, by virtue of the time he dedicated to satisfying his intellectual curiosity.

The fifth child was a silvery-grey haired little boy who was Lotor’s baby. While the little girls were outgoing and gregarious, this baby was shy and timid. He didn’t speak as early as his sisters did. Whereas his siblings were laughing by the time they were a couple months old, it took a great amount of effort just to get a chuckle out of him. While his sisters could be sly and wily, he was honest and straightforward. He was a little replica of Lotor, and as he became older, his fathers had the opportunity to see a version of themselves growing up in a loving, stable home. Lotor, in particular, held an incredible affinity for his baby, and kept his promise to assume nearly all of the childcare, even though he wasn’t a twin. His baby eventually grew up to be his best friend.

Flotor was goofy with the kids and spent time amusing and playing with them. Lotor spent a lot of time teaching them. They maintained a good balance of work and play this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more fun epilogues in part 5 and a bit more in relation to head canons. But this is it, it’s almost done! Thanks for reading... can’t believe this became a 7 month long adventure! Sorry to the couple of people who invariably read the stories as soon as they are posted, often before I’ve realized my mistakes and/or edited some sentences to make them funnier. I’m like nooo, fuuuk, stahp, go back, I screwed up, don’t read it yet. 
> 
> If you are sad like I am that this is ending, I’ve started another series to remedy the bittersweet ending of Spirited Away.


	25. More Head Canons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are they supposed to be point form? Can’t... do... it... not descriptive enough

Lotor liked to watch bumblebees pollinate flowers so he planted perennial bee friendly flowers in their garden. Later in the season, when the worker bees became slower and had difficulty flying, he cuddled them in his hand as they neared the end of their lives, while he read his books. It was fascinating that creatures so small could be so intelligent and even affectionate. He first took an interest in them after seeing they could be trained to play soccer. 

Flotor loved musicals. Epic story telling via dancing and singing? Yes, please. Favourite musical? Toss-up between Phantom and Les Mis. Lion King was up there too. 

The Lotors can’t shapeshift and neither can any half or partial Altean. The physiology that is nonAltean cannot accommodate the strain. Lotor is special, however, in that he can manipulate the part of him that is fully Altean: his hair.

Nymuë felt badly that the Lotors had wanted her to name all the babies. She finally convinced Lotor to name their little boy. To her surprise, he had not even a moment’s hesitation when he said, ‘Endymion.’ For Endymion, the poem written by John Keats, was unquestionably his favourite poem.

Whereas the girls were nicknamed peaches, their baby boy was initially called a silly goose because of his gosling, downy grey hair. Then it became any variation of ‘little goose’, ‘silly goose’, or just simply ‘goose.’ Once when he was a toddler, he stopped to ask what the droppings were on the sidewalk beside a gaggle of Canada geese. When his mother told him it was goose poop, his bottom lip quivered, his face broke, and he cried into his father’s shoulder. When he finally calmed down, he sobbed that it wasn’t him who had pooped on the sidewalk. Lotor chuckled as he reassured him that they never thought he did anything of the sort. Then little Endy sobbed again, saying, “but I’m a goose,” to the laughter of everyone around. Flotor hadn’t been around for the exchange but when he finally heard it, it was so simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking that he gave his little boy a whole bunch of kisses. 

‘Goose’ also morphed into tous bous, moose, caboose, and a variety of unrelated rhymes. Ashok called him Footloose.

Flotor liked dressing him in overalls because they were so cute.

Both Lotors loved Keith’s wolf. They often offered to walk it and play with it. Wolf never forgot how close to death Nymuë and Flotor were, once upon a time. It was extra affectionate with those two. Its presence was so soothing, it helped reduce their night terrors. Sometimes the wolf would spontaneously appear in their house in the middle of the night, while one of them was having a nightmare, jump right into the bed, and snuggle close. 

Wolf was really happy after Keith moved closer to his friends. He had actually missed his space friends, especially Nymuë. She had always been so kind and attentive to him, never growing impatient with his antics. She had connected with him more so after she gained her powers. He felt such an overwhelming compulsion to follow her and be a good boy and get pets, that he became incredibly depressed when she moved away. (After they returned to this reality, Nymuë spent some time at the Garrison before she went home.) Keith noticed his despondent state after she left, and for this and other reasons (to be continued in part 5) jumped at the opportunity to move north. When Wolf moved into Nymuë’s neighbourhood, she discovered he possessed vocal abilities regular canines did not. He would eventually be able to say a few words, Moo-moo being his first. 

He wasn’t the only one who wanted to follow her. For those nine months of pregnancy, random animals and children would end up following her. She was, afterall, the ultimate beast tamer. At first she didn’t know what the hell was going on, and she couldn’t outrun them because she was carrying so much weight. One day, as she was sitting breathless on a park bench with an entourage of birds and small mammals, the Lotors laughed and asked her when she intended to tell them about the white lion. As she sat speechless with her mouth agape, Flotor said, “you can’t lie your way out of this one. There are witnesses.” 

Before she can answer, Lotor says, “you are a better beast master in reality than I am as Artan.” He then nods to his counterpart and says with a wicked smile, “I may have to steal you away from Theren after all.”

“I thought you said it was unconscionable you were almost betrothed to your sister,” Flotor grumbled.

“Oh, does it bother you?” he simpers as he runs his hands over her curves and slips his hand under her dress. “I do not believe it bothers her. We can let you watch.”

“Now you are just being a dick.”

“If you say so,” he says as he picks her up. “Now, if you will excuse us, Aeo and I have pressing matters to attend to.”

“You’re a son of a bitch,” Flotor calls. He didn’t want to hurt her, now that she was pregnant, so he couldn’t follow, but it was actually his turn today... the most infuriating aspect of it all, however, was that Lotor was actually imitating him.


	26. Surprise Head Canons

You may have noticed that ‘I love you’ is rarely uttered throughout the entire series. This was purposefully done because it’s not something the Lotors were ever used to hearing or saying. Additionally, both of them have a bit of an irrational fear that if it is spoken aloud, it makes their relationship official in a way that can be targeted and stripped away from them. Either of them have only ever said it once: Lotor in the last chapter of ‘Breakfast,’ and Flotor on the day Eos and Esmé were born. So not even on their engagement or wedding days. 

For that matter, Nymuë doesn’t say it very often either; as it turns out, she has the same irrational fear. It’s simply understood through their affections and actions. 

A short time after Endymion was born, the three of them were discussing birth control options. Nymuë said vasectomies were absolutely not an option because the fact of the matter was, she would not be around for nearly as long as they would, and perhaps in the future, they would fall in love with someone else, and want to have more children. She hadn’t thought this statement to be as devastating as it was, and both of them cried more than she expected them to. Nine months later, they had a surprise baby. It was another sweet little silver-haired goose who Flotor named Anteros after the Greek god of requited love, and who was his own child. Eos and Endymion were also Greek names and he wanted to keep it going. He loved Greek mythology.

Every Halloween, Flotor chose to go as a villain. It was actually an expression of gratitude and love that represented his redemption from destruction; he liked to think that villains can change, can have happy endings, and can be loved by pure-hearted heroines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’ll try to post more Halloween pictures. May be a little later after the series is complete. :)


	27. Classified Epilogue

Flotor did not succeed in discovering a way to prolong Nymuë’s life indefinitely, though he did manage to extend it to 150 years. By the time his research was successful, she was well past her prime. 

Their children, though shorter-lived than their fathers, would still live for thousands of years given they had his quintessence-infused DNA and the longevity of Alteans (who lived for around a millenium). 

Both Lotors became increasingly reclusive and depressed during her last days, and were completely devastated at her passing. Her last words to them were, “You are as beautiful as you were the day I met you. Take a deep breath, and don’t worry about it.”

A couple days after her funeral, still with tear-streaked faces, they heard a gentle knock on their door. It was baffling because no one knocked on doors anymore. As the grieving children went to answer it, there were some desperate screams of astonishment and fear. For there stood their mother, in her mid-twenties, exactly the same as she had been, right down to her tattoos. Endymion fainted. Anaïs and Avélie kept screaming. Eos and Esmé sobbed wildly, huddled together in a corner. Only Anteros retained the wherewithal to retrieve his fathers. 

The three of them emerged to see pure anarchy in the living room. Lotor only saw his son lying on the floor and ran to assist him. It was only then that he looked up and saw Nymuë still standing in the doorway. He tried to blink away his disbelief. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She wore the first peacock green dress he had ever given her, with her silken ebony tresses swaying gently in the wind, and a subtle lift of her high heels accentuating her slender legs. The diffusive morning light illuminated her presence, as if in a dream.

“Well, are you infinite cactus-brained knobs going to let me in or what? Que vous êtes nuls.”

Flotor jumped back as he exclaimed, “Holy shit, what the actual fuck,” and landed backwards on the ground. Her French accent was much stronger than he had ever heard it before.

“How... how are you here?” Lotor asks in confusion, wiping away his tears.

“Well, you better invite me in first because it’s a long story. My name is Guinevere, and I am the Nymuë from your reality,” she says turning to Flotor. “Nymuë secretly contacted me and told me her entire story before all of you left to come back to this reality. I agreed to come with her. She had me cryogenically frozen with the technology from the castle of lions, and before her passing, transferred her consciousness to me. I realize I can never fully replace her, but it was the best option we had available at the time.” She stopped to wipe away the tears brimming in her eyes at that moment. “She and I love all of you more than you could ever know.”

They all stood stock still in utter shock before the floodgates burst open. None of them had ever cried as hard as they did in that moment.


	28. Avalanche of Ardour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing, what have I done?!

“Maman?” Anteros was the first to ask. His voice was so broken she no longer hesitated. She dropped her modest suitcase, went to him and held him in her arms. She spent the next hour being held by her family. The children, even though they were over a century in age still looked as if they were in their late teens. And her husbands hadn’t aged a day since they had first met. After the children had had their fill of comforting embraces and soothing reassurances, Flotor took her in his arms first. She was exactly the same, the way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she looked, as when he met her so many years ago. He regretted ever saying long ago that he did not feel the same toward her. 

“I loved you before I even met you, Lotor,” she says when he was finally able to relinquish his hold on her. “I fell in love with you when I first saw your victory address to the people. Can you imagine my shock when I saw myself beside your alternate self as he took her in his arms and kissed her? And just as I was preparing to find you before your imminent and permanent departure, she contacted me the same day with her proposition!” He sniffled as the tears welled up in his eyes again. She was too good to even be true.

Lotor took her into his arms next. He buried his face into her hair and held her tightly. He couldn’t articulate the happiness and relief he felt holding her again. Finally, he said, “You said she transferred her consciousness... you did not refer merely to her memories? I am not certain I understand.”

“Yes, it is difficult to explain. I am both her and me. I remember and love all of you as I always have, and think of you as my own. In fact, I am not entirely sure... whether my name is truly Nevé or Nymuë.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, Maman? Why did you let us think you were gone forever?” Endymion asks still tearful and a bit hurt. 

“Oh, my sweet dandelion,” she says lovingly as she gathers him into her arms once more, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I didn’t want to crush your hearts if this project failed. The nightmares your fathers have always revolved around losing something they hold dear. The thought of doing that to them broke my heart... but I see now I should have been honest with you from the beginning.”

“It’s ok, Maman, I’m just glad we have you back. Missed you so much.”

“I am not entirely certain why I am having such difficulty believing this is true,” Lotor admits ruefully. “I had been preparing to lose you for so long...” he shakes his head and is unable to continue. Anaïs heads over to him and holds him tightly as she kisses him. “We are here for you, Papa, and we love you. We never could beat Maman in a game of chess. She outplayed all of us pretty good this time!”

“Papa is getting too old to play,” Avélie quips as her siblings all laugh. He received more hugs from Eos and Endy as well, and felt a deep sense of calm settle in his heart. The future wasn’t nearly so bleak or hopeless anymore and the possibilities were suddenly endless. Nevé went back over to where he was sitting and held him tightly. “I’m here and I’m not leaving this time.” He buried his face into her chest and held her for a long time.

As they continued to laugh and chat lightheartedly, Flotor had a difficult time keeping his eyes off of her. For him as well, she was more delicate and beautiful than he remembered. She possessed a finesse he hadn’t seen before and she was more forward with her affections. In one day, she would tell him that she loved him four times, which was more than he would hear in many years. It made his heart race with newfound ardour. As the day progressed, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, and by the time evening came, all compunction had been drowned in a deep well of desire. He pulled her away from the family and into their bedroom. 

He touched her face and leaned in to kiss her as he tenderly held her forearm, savouring the taste of her cherry red lips. Memories be damned, it was her first kiss and it took her breath away. It was hard for her to believe it was happening at all; after all, she had been head-over-heels in love with him from the moment she saw him on television and he was actually kissing her now. He sent her heart pounding as he cupped her breasts and fondled her. Before long, his passion overwhelmed her and made her breathless; he didn’t even make it to the bed, as he pulled her astride him in the nearest armchair. He relished every touch and every caress as he slid off her dress and traced kisses down her neck and chest. Gripping her tightly, his fevered kisses soon became bites.

He soon noticed she was trembling and whimpering whenever he touched her. Gently releasing her, he stops and leans forward to kiss her breast. “Are you alright, my love? You are trembling... are you frightened?”

“Je... Je sais pas. Je me souviens que nous avons fait l’amour mais... je suis toujours vierge ( I don’t know. I have memories of making love to you, but this is my first time),” she mumbles.

“Oh, my sweet flower,” he sighs with deep affection as he gazes down at her and runs his hand over her breasts. “Have you truly never been with a man before?” She was so beautiful it was hard for him to believe.

“Non, je n’ai jamais été amoureuse... (No, I’ve never loved another.)”

“I am so sorry I was too rough,” he says tenderly as he kisses her softly, overwhelmed with emotion at her admission. “I promise I will be much gentler.” He took his time kissing and pleasuring her until she could take no more. The way she cried as he fingered her sent a sensual lust coursing through him and she begged him in a way he hadn’t heard before. She soon forgot the pain of penetration as he overwhelmed her with an orgasmic wave. 

He had made love to Nymuë countless times before, but he wasn’t entirely sure why it was so different this time. Guinevere had only ever belonged to him and had loved him first. He wondered if this was how Lotor felt when he first took Nymuë to be his own. Ancients almighty, he couldn’t believe how badly he wanted her. 

As if on cue, Lotor finds himself walking into a fairly intense passion play and to their surprise, issued a round of hearty chuckles. 

“I know you far too well,” he says. 

“Can I be held to account? Were it not her first time, I would have claimed her several times by now.”

She gasps, “you are more horrible than I remember.” Everything about her drove him wild with desire, even her accent. Nymuë could speak with virtually no accent, but Guinevere couldn’t even pronounce the ‘h’ sound. He couldn’t help touching her breasts and making her sigh with arousal. “Oh, please tell me how horrible this is,” he says devilishly. 

“She may be more resilient than you think,” Lotor says coquettishly as he removes his clothing. She had trouble averting her gaze away from his chiseled physique as she continued to moan under Flotor’s touch.

“Do you speak from experience?”

“Indeed. If I recall correctly, we should be able to take her several more times tonight.”

“Non! Que vous êtes méchants, tous les deu....mmph.. (No! You are so mean, both of you...)” she protests but Lotor silences her with a kiss and massages her jewel with his thumb as he buries his fingers into her wet sex. With continued stimulation from both of them, she climaxes quickly around his fingers, as he muffles her shrieks with his deep kisses.

“That’s my good girl,” Lotor says as he lies down and brings her on top of him. Still breathless, she moans as he penetrates her with his hard arousal, flushed with a sudden rush of euphoria once again. 

“Lotor!” she cries, “j’peux pas, non, il ne faut pas me prendre comme ça! (I can’t, no, you musn’t take me like this)”

“Shhhh, my love, you must. You must take all of me,” he breathes as he pulls her hips down. 

“Non! C’est trop... t’es trop grand! (No, it’s too... you’re too big)” 

He comforts her by pulling her forward and laying her against his chest. “It is alright, kitten, shhhh,” he whispers tenderly as he strokes her. “I shall be gentle with you, but you must do as I say, is that understood?” She nods as he brings her hips down once more. 

She cried out again, protesting his size and girth as he groaned in pleasure. The pulsating fire she felt as he thrust into her was unlike anything she had felt before and her orphaned memories did little to prepare her for it. Everything about her seduced him like nothing before and he didn’t last very long.

Lotor held her close to him as she breathlessly shuddered against him. 

“Are you alright, kitten? Was it too soon for you?”

“You are as sweet as you always have been. I’m alright... even with my memories, I had no idea it would be like that. I... I love you with my whole heart.”

He was a little surprised by her forthrightness. Flotor laughed at the expression on his face. “It takes some getting used to. She has told us she loves us more times in one day than we have heard in our entire lives.”

Lotor shakes his head and laughs as well, and draws her close. “You cannot know how I... how we have missed you. Though, I must admit, I know not what to call you,” he says gently as he strokes her cheek. 

“Call me what you have always called me, love. I am still your wife. I am still Nymuë.”

“Then what about the part of you that is Guinevere?”

“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” she laughs as she rolls over, and kisses them both. Before Flotor let her go, he asked, “Did you say your nickname was Nevé?”

“Yes, Trajan gave it to me because it is Italian for snow, the same as my given name.”

“It suits you perfectly,” he replies as he kisses her again. 

She snuggles into the crook of his arm, with her arm draped over his chest. “I love you both,” she whispers as she drifts off to sleep. 

“Did today really happen?” Flotor asks in continued disbelief. “We were grieving her for so long, and I was not even sure I had the will to keep living, and now we are making love to her once more. I believe I am getting too old for all this excitement.”

“I keep expecting to wake up from this dream, which would be a much crueller fate than any of the nightmares I have had throughout the years.” He kissed her head and breathed in her scent as he lovingly stroked her skin.

“It is definitely not a dream. She will be here still tomorrow and with my experiments, arguably, for as long as we live. She did it. She completed my work.” Tears start to well up in his eyes again. “I thought I had failed. But she partnered with me, as she has always done, and turned it into a success.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lotors are fluent in French now.


	29. Of Tears and Turtles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the tale that never ends... it’s all Batman’s fault.

The next morning, Nevé awoke early to dawn’s first light and the cheerful chirping of summer birds. She rubbed her eyes as she took a moment to remember where she was. She looked over at her sleeping husbands and kissed them softly. Although they had both awoken her throughout the night to make love to her, sleep continued to elude her. She never could have imagined how passionate they would be from the beginning, nor anticipate the flood of ecstasy that came with having two lovers.

She got up and chose a floral forest green dress from the wardrobe, and smiled to remember it had been given to her by Flotor long ago. As she brushed her long hair, and read Lotor’s poem multiple times before she inserted her hairpins, she sighed inwardly, thinking of how similar she was to her counterpart. They both loved every shade of green, and were enamoured by art and poetry, but first and foremost, shared a deep and abiding love for music. They were, in fact, more similar than the two Lotors were to each other. She went downstairs, running her hands across the many beautiful family pictures adorning their walls, stopping to admire each one. There was one picture of Avélie as a chubby infant that had made her heart swoon for decades; the photography session had coincided with her nap time and she was so tired, she simply stared straight ahead with a sort of sad pout on her face. 

Nevé happily went to a nearby farmer’s market and brought back fresh fruits, cream, eggs, and other ingredients to make breakfast for her family. It had been evident her poor family had plenty of frozen meals but very little in the way of fresh food when, aghast, she opened the pantries and refrigeration unit to discover they were barren. She made different crêpes for everyone, just the way they liked them. She was also adept at carving petite animal sculptures from fruit, which was something Nymuë never did, and made some for each one of them. Their kids had taken extended bereavement leaves, knowing their fathers were having an extremely difficult time coping, and had planned to stay with them in the home they grew up in for the next few weeks. They had also planned to surprise their fathers with a tropical vacation to watch some hatching sea turtles, but no one could have foreseen this development. 

The warm aromatic notes of freshly brewed coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon greeted the grief-wracked and downtrodden family with hope and happiness. Anteros was the first to awaken and flew downstairs to greet his mother. 

He was a sensitive boy: honest, earnest, and extremely close to his mother. Of all of the children, he had been hit the hardest, even though he did his best to keep a brave face for his fathers. The twins had always had each other, and Lotor doted on little Endy, but because Anteros was the youngest and the last child, Nymuë had learned from any previous parenting mishaps by then, and spent a great deal more time with him. He also had inherited the greatest share of her intelligence, was highly analytical, and possessed a predictive acumen that rivalled her own. When his young mother appeared in the doorway yesterday, he knew to a large extent what had been done to achieve it. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, seeing her in the kitchen reminded him of all the nostalgia of childhood and the tears filled his eyes once more. The elation of having her again filled his being and he ran to throw his arms around her. 

“Maman, I missed you so much. I know it was only for a week, but it was so hard,” he sobbed as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. “I didn’t know how I could even keep going without you.”

She held him tightly and lavished kisses on his head. “My sweet taro root. I’m glad it all worked out. It breaks my heart to see you so distraught. I love you so much.”

He helped her set the table and happily reminisced on his most treasured memories of her. He and his siblings had aged so slowly, they still retained the maturity of older teenagers and acted as such. None of them were yet married, nor had any plans of doing so for a while; it was the furthest thing from any of their minds. Watching their mother age at an incomprehensibly heightened rate right before their eyes had therefore been incomparably distressing to them, and watching her pass, the cruellest loss they had ever experienced.

As the rest of the family filtered into the kitchen, beckoned by the appetizing smells emanating from it, Anteros asked his mother why she had been willing to leave behind her own family for people she had never even met. Her crestfallen expression caused enough alarm among them that Lotor pulled her into his lap to hold her close as she spoke.

She closed her eyes, and retrieved all of Nymuë’s memories of her brothers, and her parents and relished the happiness that came with them. She also felt greatly comforted by Lotor’s arms around her.

“In my reality, Hadrien, Trajan, and Papa were killed by a drunk driver. Maman became so depressed she took her life. When Nymuë found me, I had nothing left. I had been expelled from the Garrison because I had been lashing out at people from the pain and I had been contemplating suicide for a long time. But then I saw Lotor’s address to the people and it gave me enough hope to keep going. He saved my life in this reality and in my own. I would normally be uncontrollably crying as I tell you this, but I have all of these memories now with Maman, Papa, and Hadrien and Trajan with their families.” She huffed a smile of relief. “It doesn’t hurt so badly anymore.”

If everyone thought they had cried pretty hard yesterday, it was nothing compared to the torrential downpour of tears today. Their young mother had suffered so much in her short life and a heavy realization fell upon them: for it was not so much she who was saving them from their grief, but very much the other way around. And yet, in her selflessness, she still had so much love to give, even though she had nothing herself. Lotor held her so tightly, she exhaled a deep breath of relief. It soothed her tremendously to be loved so deeply.

Eos was the first to regain composure when she said tearfully, “Maman, we can’t take away the painful memories but we can make new ones with you that are happy. We were going to surprise our Papas with this trip tomorrow but maybe you could use the good news today. We know turtles are your favourite animal so we were going to take all of you to the Galápagos Islands to watch the baby turtles hatch.”

Nevé was choked with emotion and she could only nod her gratitude. Just as the kids were wiping their tears, finally able to tolerate the thought of eating, they all looked down to see lovingly crafted turtle-shaped kiwis and strawberries and burst into tears again. 

Flotor went to her and took her into his arms. “I should have sought you out sooner. I am so sorry I wasn’t at your side when you needed someone.”

She shook her head. “How could you have known, love? I know you did everything you could to save us and you did. Without you, I would not be here today. It worked out for the best. As Nymuë, the secret of Oriande had to die with me so it was never my intention to have you extend my other life. I have certain memories erased and cannot recall how I helped you win the war.”

This revelation sent shock waves through the entire family. Lotor dropped to his knees. She had assumed the greatest responsibility with the power she carried and ultimately gave her life in exchange for saving the lives of millions.

“But if you’re the same person, couldn’t you figure it out again?” Anteros asks.

“Perhaps, but I will not because it came with such a great cost.” She went over to Lotor and kissed him tenderly. “Because I love all of you and want to be with you.”

“How did you know it would take Papa so long to conduct his experiments?” Anteros continues. “You would have had to know this from the beginning.”

“I didn’t. I sent him on many a wild goose chase. My little gray-haired geese kept him busy,” she laughed as she ruffled his hair. “Other times, I pointed him in the wrong direction.”

“You did what?!” Flotor asks incredulously. “Do you understand how frustrating it was that my data was never reproducible?”

“You would not have allowed me to end my life, had you succeeded. This was the only way. You might have administered the gene-editing nanobots without my consent, had I refused.”

Flotor felt hurt by this revelation and the jumble of pain, of loss, and even betrayal caused his anger to bubble to the surface. “Do you understand the kind of emotional turmoil we have suffered as a result of your duplicity?!”

“Papa! Don’t yell at Maman!” Anteros says as he intervenes, “if what she says is true, then it was the only way. What if another Haggar arose and tortured that information out of her?!”

“I know that! Ancients alive, I know it. It is mostly why I am so angry,” he says in a softer tone, “She... she had to give her life to rectify the evils of a reality not her own.”

“I am so sorry to have put you through this. I realize I should have done things much differently now,” she replies remorsefully as she wipes new tears brimming in her eyes.

“No, I apologize for wrongfully blaming you. It was Honerva’s craving for knowledge and power that cost you your life and took you away from us.” He exhaled his grief and pain. “But you even found a way around death it seems.”

“I can’t imagine how much it hurt to sabotage Papa’s experiments,” Eos muses mournfully. “Knowing you were going to have to say good-bye to us. It must have taken so much courage to bear that burden by yourself and keep the smile on your face that all of us remember.”

Nevé smiled warmly. “As I’ve stated before, I love you all more than you can imagine. I had to ensure a future that was safe for all of you. And that was more than enough to give me strength. Now please eat your breakfast before it sublimates into oblivion,” she says to a round of chuckles. 

Breakfast was more delicious than they could have imagined, especially since they had been subsisting on junk food and take-out since Nymuë fell ill. They couldn’t remember the last time she had even cooked for them, it had been so long. The children took to her right away. Having the same father from two realities was most likely the largest primer that aided their rapid adjustment. Guinevere was seamlessly accepted into their family as their mother.

The Lotors were torn about what to call her, because they never used pet names outside of the bedroom. For her whole life, they had called her Nymuë, but now they also did not want to ignore or neglect the part of her that was arguably hurting the most. They finally decided on both Nymuë and Nevé. She was happy simply just to be with them; any name they called her would have been fine with her because it was spoken with love.


	30. De Quoi Te Plaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> De Quoi Te Plaire - of what pleases you

“Maman,” Endymion says quietly as he enters the kitchen, “can I speak with you?” She had just finished preparing an appetizing lunch of quiche lorraine, and freshly made tomato and basil soup, and was currently making Flotor’s favourite food of all time: buttercream cupcakes. 

“Of course, my love,” she smiles with incredible affection.

Endymion was not only close with his father, but throughout the years became best friends with Keiran, and their relationship had often been compared to that of Marcus and Hadrien. Since Keiran lived down the street, Endy was also extremely close to his uncle Trajan and emulated him to no end. He held him in such high esteem that he too, became a physician, specializing in astromedicine. Endy was completely devastated to hear of what happened in the other reality and wanted to rectify that especially selfish kind of evil. He graciously helped his mother bring out the food and set the table, and was formulating a novel plan.

After lunch he said, “Maman, despite the advancement of technology over the years from driverless vehicles to blood alcohol monitoring from our smart cars, we continue to see the devastation alcohol wreaks upon families. I’d like to launch a campaign to combat the evils of this drug via upstream, prevention education. I’m still so angry to hear of what has happened, I would be willing to remortgage my condo to fund such an endeavour.”

“Endy has an inherent fire that blazes against injustice, doesn’t he?” smiles Esmé. “It’s so cute,” she says as she ruffles his silvery hair. “We can also help fund this project! Eos and I have sold many illustrations lately and we have quite a bit saved up.” 

Eos and Esmé were wildly talented artists, having inherited the best of the artistic inclination of both their parents. They partnered together on collaborative projects and, as a result, produced popular children’s books, graphic novels, and freelance illustrations. Nymuë’s mother not only passed down her red hair to her grandchildren, but also her artistic flair and left-handedness. The Lotors had been very surprised to discover that all four of their daughters were left-handed. While such an occurrence happens in about ten percent of the human population, only about one percent of Galra are left-handed. Eos and Esmé were born ready to become artists. With respect to their siblings, both sets of twins had been extremely protective of their little brothers growing up, and always came to their assistance whenever they needed anything. In fact, Eos and Esmé were the only ones who could make Endy laugh when he was an infant, cementing their deep bonds from the very beginning. 

“Your hearts are always so open and pure,” Nevé replies gently. “I am so fortunate to have you all in my life. Save your money, my loves. How much would you like? Ten million? Twenty? Fifty? Just let me know and I’ll transfer the funds.”

A stunned silence falls over the house where there had been cheerful banter previously. “Maman,” Endy finally says in confusion, “How can you be so nonchalant speaking of that much money? Do you have fifty million dollars in your back pocket?”

“Well, in a way, yes. I have nearly one billion dollars in investments, actually.”

“WHAT?” came a chorus of astonished cries.

“Maman must have invested her money 125 years ago,” Anteros laughs. “That is the smartest thing I have ever heard of! But you would have still needed a multimillion dollar principal investment. Where did you get that much to invest in the first place? Wait, did you sue the drunk driver who killed our family?”

Nevé sighed with sly amusement. “Yes, my love. He was a multimillionaire who had had multiple impaired driving infractions. Marcus and I bled him dry. And my very intention was to use the money to combat injustice and inequality. I sued him for one hundred million and won.”

This was followed by muffled gasps and incredulous laughter of her children at the bit of poetic justice. 

“The reason all of you were able to go elite schools, along with Trajan and Hadrien’s children was because I left my funds in the care of Nymuë, who invested them for me; the intention was for her to periodically withdraw from the accumulated interest, but it seems she never even touched it. She only drew from the money I collected from the life insurance policies of my family and she gave much of it to her brothers’ families. Although I was not present while you grew up, it was at least a small way I could provide for all of you.”

“Papa, did you know this?” Endy asks Lotor.

“No, I am hearing it for the first time now. Nymuë was the one who was always in charge of our finances. I simply thought it was because she was a physician and made a good salary.”

Nevé laughs. “Oh, my love. It takes more than a single income, even if it is a physician’s income, to afford a home like this, to raise six children, to send them all to private schools, and to enroll them into such elaborate extracurricular activities.”

“You really did love us before you had even met us,” Endy said, awash with emotion. “How did you know you could trust her with that much money?”

“I could just tell after meeting her,” Nevé turns to look out of the kitchen window. “She was willing to give her life for the ones she loved again and again.” She giggled as she stated, “it also helped that Keith’s wolf was completely smitten by her. It followed her everywhere while she was in our reality and absolutely adored her.”

Every revelation in the past twenty four hours seemed more surreal than the last. Flotor headed to the nearest window and watched a particularly incensed squirrel chase another squirrel for stealing its nuts. Nymuë had, for all intents and purposes, died three times, each time explicitly for his or his counterpart’s sake. And what had he done? He wasn’t even there for her, well, the other her, when she had been broken and suicidal. Then he suddenly remembered Lotor telling him to seek her out as soon as possible when he returned to his reality, but he had been so preoccupied with the twins and with Nymuë’s safety, he had forgotten. And now after failing her so spectacularly, she stands before him with outstretched arms, telling him she loved him even before meeting him, having given everything she owned for his well-being and that of his children. He felt guilty for even making love to her last night... he didn’t deserve her after all the ways he had let her down.

“Now all of you have the financial means to pursue your dreams,” she continues. “However, we must...”

“Take care of those less fortunate, by virtue of noblesse oblige,” all the kids repeat automatically with a laugh.

Nevé heads over to where Flotor was standing, as he was still staring out the window, and takes him around the waist. He had trouble looking her in the eyes, but she assuaged his insecurities once more, as she had always done, not by saying anything this time, but by singing softly to him as she led him into a slow dance. Anaïs and Avélie immediately grabbed their guitars and together with their mother, the trio sang the most angelic rendition of ‘De quoi te plaire’ Flotor had ever heard. He couldn’t believe that despite all his inadequacies, she was the one singing she didn’t possess what he desired. With more tears, he gathered her into his arms and whispered that he loved her for the first time in many, many decades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine their rendition of ‘De quoi te plaire’ went a bit like the version by Les soeurs Boulay and Pomme


	31. A Love Stronger than Death

The children grew up in a home filled with music and were now all musicians themselves. They had stopped playing, however, when their mother fell ill, and although they knew music might have lifted the grieving spirits of their fathers, none of them could bring themselves to play. She had been the centre of their song since the beginning and it was as if the heart of their music had died along with her when she passed. Today was the first time they had sung together in a long time and it became an incredibly powerful cathartic moment for all of them. 

There were very few dry eyes by the end of her first serenade. The kids had difficulty reconciling the fact that their father had once been a ruthless and brutal killer when they watched how tenderly he loved their mother now. The enduring love they had for each other was the essence of fairy tales, the gold standard to which the kids would hold their own future relationships. Nymuë always had a knack for changing the meaning of a song without any alteration to the lyrics, but merely by the way she expressed it. It was one of the many things the Lotors greatly enjoyed about her; in a deeper way, she had found both of them, broken and sullied, yet she saw beyond their rough and hardened exteriors, picked them up, dusted them off, and loved them as they were. 

For him, this new dance, a first among many more, represented everything she was. She turned darkness into light, despair into hope, a song of pining and inadequacy into a song of selfless love. He felt whole once more and he knew with every fibre of his being that he was meant to be with her, as the the fire of her love burned away the extraneous insecurities he held just a moment ago. 

She wasn’t finished yet, however. Knowing that he was feeling unworthy and inadequate, she began her next song of healing, as the twins continued their harmonic accompaniment. ‘Pour que tu m’aimes encore,’ a chanson of fevered and fanatical obsession, metamorphosed into a reincarnation of love stronger than the grip of death itself. She felt him falter under the weight of her words as she held him tightly. 

The remainder of the afternoon was filled with laughter and happiness as the kids took turns playing their favourite tunes and watching their parents dance together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nymuë prefers the acoustic version by Les Soeurs Boulay, rather than the synthy pop version by Céline Dion.


	32. Enduring Esperance

“I can’t believe they used to call me moo-moo and tous bous,” Nevé laughed as they were reminiscing on old times during dinner. She had made Anteros’ favourite meal, miso chashu ramen and he was in heaven. 

Anteros laughed and then grinned widely. “So, if uncle Trajan called you Nevé, did uncle Hadrien call you neigh-neigh, then?!”

Nevé gasped, “How did you know!?”

“In which case, uncle Marcus would have called you híppos! But that’s not funny enough. If I were him, I would have chosen the accusative declension. Tòn híppon (the horse) is hilarious,” he laughs. 

“That is not funny,” Nevé crosses her arms and frowns to laughter of the whole family.

“So he did call you that, then?” Lotor grins. “Anteros is quite good at this. And Marcus’ appropriation of Hadrien’s names are funny in every reality.” Nevé slaps him on the shoulder, still with a pseudo-pout on her face. He laughed louder and held her close to him.

After dinner, the rest of the family went home to pack for their upcoming vacation, and Lotor had gone outside with them to finalize their lists, give them all hugs, and affectionately send each of them off. He never imagined prior to having children, that there could possibly be room enough to love them as much, or even more than his wife. And then he met his first two babies. If he had thought his romantic love was the sun in his life, his girls would be a supernova of light and love: little people who were filled to the brim and overflowing with nothing but affection. It was unlike anything he had experienced in his life. He underwent more change within than at any other time and wanted nothing more than to be a good father. It was the same for both of them. Their children would be the ones who drew forth their full potential for kindness and compassion. As he was stepping outside, he glanced into the family room; Flotor had Nevé in his lap, with her lace culottes down around her ankles, and his hand under her skirt. That brazen son of a bitch, he thought. By the time he came back in, she had been stripped of her clothing and he was already ravishing her.

Lotor walked past them and headed for the study; he had had a sudden inspiration that afternoon as he held her close to him and had wanted to write it down before he forgot it all. It was somewhat difficult, however, listening to her plead and moan his name. French did not come as naturally to him as other languages he knew and he required more concentration to write in it. Lotor groaned and left the study. He hadn’t even written one word yet. He headed outside and sat on the porch; there he was greeted by a summer breeze carrying a fragrant medley of peonies and lavender. He sighed and recalled that day so long ago, when he had heard her say to Allura that he was deserving of a love that was quintessentially enduring and steadfast, followed shortly by one of the most beautiful poems he had ever heard. His breath quavered to remember her words, “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.” She had said her love would never wane, nor waver, even upon death’s door, and now even from beyond the grave, she still returned to him. Even if she had deceived both of them from time to time, she had been true to her greatest promise of all. He hadn’t even understood the depth of her words until now, over a century later. 

Suddenly, like the rush of a spring runoff, the words flowed from his heart onto his page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The accusative declension in Ancient Greek is used to denote the object of a sentence. Normally, when addressing a person, the vocative declension is used. Tòn híppon is therefore, not just the totally wrong declension to use, it’s also the masculine form which is also wrong. Marcus just chose it because it rhymes, like he did in this reality, when he calls her tous bous.


	33. Traumatic Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all I can summon the will to write after S8. It’s not much of a bandaid but I’m still hemorraging from the knife they plunged into my heart.

When Lotor finally came to bed that night, he discovered a softly sobbing bundle hidden under the blankets while his alternate self was sleeping as deeply as he could be, sprawled out on the other side of the bed. He gently stroked her back as he peeled back the covers and asked her what was wrong. She couldn’t answer him right away, she was so wracked with anguish, so he laid down next to her and held her until she calmed down. It was nearly as severe as that time long ago when she thought he might leave her. Since then, he almost never saw Nymuë cry, as she was not given to overt displays of emotion. He had initially thought of asking her if that son of a bitch had hurt or frightened her, but the pain seemed much deeper than any physical pain she might be experiencing. 

She finally turned around to face him as he drew her even closer, whispering her distress while interrupted by the occasional sob.

“I dreamt that you died because I... wasn’t able to rescue you from the quintessence field. That it was Honerva... who tore apart the universe to try and save you, only to discover... you...” she couldn’t finish and dissolved into tears again. It was loud enough this time to rouse Flotor from slumber. “I saw your...” 

He kissed her head and continued to stroke her back. “Do you have nightmares often?” 

She didn’t answer and nodded her reply into his shoulder. He felt badly because he knew exactly how it could be. However, both he and Flotor had had long hiatuses from the night terrors, so profoundly effective had their path to healing been. His heart hurt now to find Nevé so distraught. He gently traced kisses over her lips and face, and gave soothing reassurances. 

“I am still here,” he whispers still holding her tightly.

“What happened?” Flotor asks, yawning. He had been in the middle of a deep sleep and was still quite groggy.

“I discovered her crying beside you while you were comatose over there in happy dreamland,” Lotor replies stolidly. He was relieved that she giggled at that. 

“He always sleeps deeply after he makes love to me. Both of you do, actually.”

“Well, if you must know, I was having a happy dream.”

“I could tell,” Nevé smiles through her tears. “Your sleep chuckles calmed me down a bit.”

“I was going to wait until tomorrow,” Lotor says, “but perhaps I can give it to you now. I noticed how downtrodden you were, though you attempted to conceal it from us, when you discovered your ukulele had not survived the trip intact. It may not have the same sentimental value, but I have a new one for you.”

Nevé gasped when he gave it to her. She traced her hands over the marbled wood grain in awe. “But you can only buy this kind from Hawaii. Is that why you were so late?!”

“Perhaps,” he smiles, “and if you turn it over...”

She gasped again. On the exquisitely crafted wooden neck was inscribed:

L’amour doux de la  
Fonte des neiges printanières  
S’effondre en larmes

(Tender love of  
Melting spring snows  
Dissolve in tears)

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you writing French poetry, now? Aren’t you a romantic son of a bitch,” Flotor says with a groan as he turns around to go back to sleep. “Here’s my contribution: 

“Roses are red,  
Violets are cool,  
I still can’t write poetry like you do, you fool.”

Nevé laughed so hard, she soon forgot how distressed she was a moment ago. She was able to settle back to sleep in Lotor’s arms.


	34. There’s no Necromancer without Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an idea Legend of Carl had on tumblr that I drew today: Lotor as a Necromancer in Monsters and Mana. His alignment is chaotic good, and that’s all I know because I’m tired from the trauma that was S8.


	35. Veritas and Viris

After the battle with Gaiya, Flotor was overseeing his repairs to his Sincline mech, as it had been significantly damaged. While he was making calibrations in the hangar, all of a sudden, he was interrupted by a stream of conscious thought invading his mind.

“Where am I?” the voice says to him.

Startled, and unsure what was happening, he hesitates and scans his surroundings for the source.

“Emperor Lotor, where am I?”

“You are at Central Command,” he says hesitantly, but before he could ask to whom he was speaking, she makes her next inquiry.

“Who am I? What is my... name?”

Was it his own ship that was speaking? It seemed utterly incredible that it was happening at all. 

“I... I do not believe you have a name yet,” was all he could manage.

“My sister has a name. Her name is Veritas.”

“How do you know that?” 

“She taught me many things while I was being repaired. I would like a name, too.”

“I... I was told she chose her own name. You... may do so as well.” He didn’t know what else to say. The conversation continued to be one of the most surreal experiences he had ever had. 

“Her name means truth. I will choose Viris, so I can be your strength when you fall. I feel... I feel angry and sad I could not save you in the bubbles field. I do not wish for it again.”

He was a bit taken aback. Did his Sincline ship have feelings? She was affectionate and spoke like a child.

“That... is a very apt and meaningful name... I deeply appreciate the gesture.”

“Emperor Lotor, the other one who made me, she tried to kill us. She hurt you badly. I do not wish to see her again.”

“Viris, do not worry, for we shall not see her again after we leave this reality.” Saying this out loud, was a bit cathartic for him. He sighed and set his hand on his giant mech, who in her childlike innocence had experienced betrayal and hurt for the first time. “Now, is there anything else I might do for you in the meantime?”

“I would like a present.”

“Of... of course, Viris. I shall... do my best.”

“Do I get one too?” asks another voice. 

Flotor looks over to Lotor’s ships. She never talked to him before. He pauses with perplexity and clears his throat. “That... goes without saying. Of... course you do.”

“You are nice, we like you.”

“I... am fond of you ... both... as well,” he said with an expression replete with incredulity. He couldn’t believe he was saying that to his ships. Now he was going to have to ask Nymuë what he could possibly get a giant mech warrior for a present. 

He found her taking a nap in his quarters and decided not to disturb her. The only other person he could possibly ask was Lotor. After all, he had bonded with his Sincline ships but he was occupied today with refugee resettlement. Pidge and Hunk, perhaps? 

After tracking them down and explaining the situation, they laughed until they were flushed in the face and were wiping away tears.

“Oh my god, so your ships are like the tachikomas in Ghost in the Shell,” Pidge manages to say finally.

“Those are fictional AI robots who acted like kids when they first gained self awarensss,” Hunk explains. 

“Okay, okay, if I was a kid AI, honestly, a pet would be nice. THAT’S IT! I’ll reprogram a couple of the Olkari cubes to make them pets. Oh my god, this is hilarious. What do you think, Hunk?”

“Wait, wait, what if we did that, but made the designs like the companion cubes from portal?”

“But matching colours to the Sincline ships?! Oh, you’ve done it now, man!”

Pidge and Hunk were so excited, they no longer acknowledged Flotor’s presence. They eventually shooed him away so they could work on their new project.

“So then what happened?” Anteros asks over breakfast, entirely enraptured by the story.

Flotor clears his throat and draws Nevé into his arms. “I went back to find your mother for there were other matters of import to attend to.”

Lotor gives him an unimpressed look. None of the kids had caught on yet. He continues to state that the presents were above and beyond what Viris and Veritas ever expected and they continue to love their pets to this day. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Anaïs sighs. “They never really grew out of being children, did they? They still kind of act like kids whenever they talk to us.”

“As do you all, sometimes!” Nevé says with a laugh.

“Hey, you don’t get to call us kids, anymore Maman. We’re all technically older than you by more than a century,” Eos retorts. 

“Oh, I will call you my kids until the very end. You’ll always be my babies.”

“Thank you for breakfast, Maman,” Endy says as he gives her a hug. 

“Oh, you’re welcome, my love. So, you know, because we had so much work to do stabilizing both realities, and raising all of you, in addition to your father’s research, they never had as much time to travel as they would have liked.” She tenderly cups Flotor’s cheek and kisses his head. “Now that all their work is complete, my plan is to give each of you a large sum to invest for your futures. Should you decide to leave behind your careers to travel together, you have the financial means to do so. I’d like to take all of you around the world. We can visit any place you like, for as long as you like, learn the local languages and cultures, even, and explore to your heart’s content.”

The kids gasped in surprise and delight. 

“We can then leave earth, and explore the universe. I’m certain Veritas and Viris would have the time of their lives!” she exclaimed to general chuckles. “We can help those we find in need, travel to the distant corners of the universe, find new worlds and new cultures.”

“Maman,” Anteros says unsteadily, awash with emotion, “did you plan this from the beginning?”

“I’ve been planning it since Lotor told me he had always aspired to be an explorer. However, I never imagined that something beautiful like this could be borne out of tragedy.”

Lotor went over to her and held her tightly. He actually hadn’t minded setting aside his youthful dreams since he had gained something much more precious. The possibilities were always limitless with Nymuë. It was difficult to even contemplate the bottomless grief he felt just a few days ago in comparison to the endless joy he felt now. Exploring the universe with his family as his crew was more than he could have hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better believe the Lotors are going to have everything they’ve ever wanted in this story, damnit.
> 
> Whereas the lions shared messages and ideas telepathically, the Sincline ships know language because thats the way the cookie crumbles.
> 
> Viris = strength, Latin


	36. Fatherly Affection

When Veritas and Viris first received their companion cubes, they were elated beyond measure. They excitedly spent hours of deliberation amongst themselves just to find the perfect names. The cubes, though detailed with cute heart designs, and programmed to be affectionate, also doubled as weapon amplifiers. The two Sincline mechs, when paired together with their pets, formed an unfathomable force of reckoning. The relationship they developed as sisters further enhanced their synchronization as warriors, and their reputation as defenders of the universe alongside Voltron was unmatched. 

As their understanding of the world around them blossomed during their formative years, the virtue of their pilots had sculpted their personalities to ones of integrity, fairness, and empathy. Ultimately, Veritas and Viris knew how Nymuë’s death had affected the Lotors. After all, Veritas had first been drawn to her inner fire and it was expressly because of that newly forged bond that Lotor was saved from his own demons and from certain death. If an artificial intelligence could ever learn to love, then these two giant loveable mechs had done it. They were breaking protocol by deciding to do what they did, and were probably going to get into big trouble, but they didn’t care. The amiable mechs had even managed to convince Anteros and Endymion to go along with their scheme because they needed pilots who were the spitting image of their fathers. They were going to give their creators a present of a lifetime. 

“Emperor Lotor, please come! We must give you something!” an animated voice cries as Lotor opens an alarming communicator screen. The family had just finished eating breakfast and they all knew that was Viris’ endlessly enthusiastic voice. So they headed to their private hangar, where Viris and Veritas were located. 

Upon arrival, there was already a small theatre set up outside, several chairs arranged neatly in front of a communicator screen. As Anteros goes to activate the transreality transceivers, everyone is astounded to see a threeway split screen on which appear several Zarkons in real-time.

“Is this thing on? Am I doing this right?” Zarkon 1 asks. 

“Emperors Lotor, we know how sad you were when Lady Nymuë passed so we got you a nice present,” Viris says. 

“Your dads were very mean to you in your realities. So we found nice dads who have nice messages to comfort you,” Veritas continues to say.

The look of astonishment and absolute shock on their faces caused Zarkon 2 to step up first. “You know, my sons, I must admit, what you have accomplished in your reality despite ages of abuse and torment is absolutely extraordinary. Your giant loveable robots told me their mission,” he laughs with a hearty chortle. “You did a wonderful job raising your sons to be such fine, upstanding gentlemen. I was heart-broken to hear of what my alternate reality selves had done to you. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry. If I could pound those wretched bastards into the ground, I would, but I hear you did that already, so good for you!” he chuckles again. 

“So, there are two of you in this reality, are there? I heard all about how your lovely wife saved you both from certain death. I am so grateful she could be there for you when my negligent, fool-hardy, wretched selves couldn’t be. I’ll be sure to render a punishment of a thousand lifetimes in the afterlife for trying to kill their own sons. Now, Anteros and Endymion have updated us since they first made contact. It seems their mother even found a way around death! Let me tell you a little secret. I fell in love with Honerva because of her intelligence as well!! You are all truly extraordinary young folk. I am exceptionally pleased that instead of a message of condolence, I can offer you one of congratulations,” says Zarkon 1.

The third Zarkon, tenderly picks up a very young Lotor and holds him up to the screen. He was exceptionally shy and hid in his father’s shoulder. Wiping away tears, Zarkon says, “I wish I could have been there to raise both of you in a loving home. I can not undo all of the atrocities you have been subjected to, but henceforth, I would like you to know that you are loved in this reality and if you ever need to call on me for anything, please do so via the transceivers. They are a truly magnificent invention. You can be certain I will be checking in on you regularly from now on.”

“Indeed,” continues Zarkon 1. “You now have three fathers who will be regularly contacting you and our beautiful grandchildren.”

The Lotors were absolutely speechless as they wiped away their tears. 

Anteros goes into the hangar and to the astounded gasps of everyone, brings out Zarkon 2. Zarkon wordlessly gathers the nearest Lotor into a crushing embrace and then does the same for the other one. There wasn’t a single dry eye that morning, and even Viris and Veritas who couldn’t physically cry, hugged their cubes as they watched with profound happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, is it really that hard to take care of your babies, goddamnit? I hereby assume legal guardianship of Lotor and remove him from his sadistic, abusive writers, directors, executives, and show runners.


	37. A Cat’s Eye View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disney Princesses have an animal sidekick, sing songs, attract small animals, and marry Prince Charming. Good fucking lord, what have I done?

Ever since Kova had been rescued in Lotor’s reality, he had taken quite a liking to Nymuë. She still carried that aura of irresistible energy when he met her and he couldn’t help following her everywhere. After the birth of the children, Kova became preferential to Endymion, and eventually became a permanent fixture on his shoulders or at his side. Lotor’s soft spot for Endy grew even softer as he watched the miniature version of himself play with Kova just like he used to when he was a child. 

When Veritas had approached him with their plans to seek out alternate reality Zarkons, Endy was very hesitant. He had always observed rules to the letter, and was honest to a fault. Since his father never spoke much of his past, his son never knew the true extent of the abject cruelty he had experienced. It was then that Kova did something he’d never done before. After Haggar had invaded his mind, he gained access to the astral plane of consciousness. Projecting his thoughts via Veritas, he replayed the most traumatic experience Lotor had ever suffered; the merciless mass extermination of people he cared about, of people he loved. Endy caught glimpses of Nueh, how fond she had been of him, of his father pleading with Zarkon to spare their lives, and finally, the despair and horror on his face as he witnessed their total annihilation. 

Endy dropped to his knees and cried. He had had no idea how much his father had suffered, especially since Lotor had a heart of gold that he wore on his sleeve whenever it came to his son. Without hesitation, he went to fetch Anteros and together they hatched their plan. 

After Zarkon was finally willing to relinquish his hold on Lotor, he announced, with the brightest smile he was capable of, that he had gifts for all of them. The Sincline sisters squealed their delight at the prospect of more presents to the laughter of everyone. 

Zarkon shook his head in pleasant disbelief. “It is abundantly clear that you have raised your children rightly and justly, whether biological or mechanical!” he laughs with a deep, throaty laugh. “Now let’s see, for Eos and Esmé, I have brought Altean art history books and supplies for Altean brush painting. I heard you inherited the best of your mother and your father’s artistic inclinations. How wonderful.” He turns to the Lotors and grasps their forearms tenderly. “Your girls are beautiful.”

“For my other two granddaughters, Anaïs and Avélie, we have a compendium of Altean musical scores, two wonderfully crafted traditional lutes, and a manual to teach you how to play them.” He gathers them into a warm embrace as they gratefully offer their thanks. 

“For Endymion, two compilations of Altea’s best loved poetry.” He sets his hand on his shoulder and remarks casually that he looks just like his father when he was an adolescent youth.

“For Anteros, a virtual encyclopedia of all of the recorded fauna and flora on Altea, including extinct species.” He affectionately embraces him and pats him on the back.

“And for my two sons, who retained your strength of character and integrity even when you were constantly called weak, and who never gave up or gave in to the evil running rampant in your reality, I have two things for you.” Zarkon hands them each a black stuffed cat to the laughter of everyone. “This is the very first gift I would have given you as babies. It might be several millennia too late, my apologies. The next gift is a toy Galran soldier. Lotarious loved this when he was a child. I would have given you each one as well.”

Lotor chuckles as he examines the toy soldier and runs his finger over the intricate detail. “I never imagined I would be this elated to receive a child’s plaything. Thank you...”he hesitated, unsure what he could call Zarkon.

“Call me whatever you are comfortable with, my son. If father is too difficult to say, do not worry. Call me Zarkon instead. I realize this is all very sudden.”

Flotor was finally able to overcome his shock and find his voice as he said, “I believe the timing could not have been better. We have spent the past century healing from the mortal wounds dealt to us by our corrupted parents. The love of friends and family, in addition to professional therapy, has enabled us to confront and incrementally relinquish the accumulated hatred and bitterness of many lifetimes. I admit I would not have been ready to see you a century ago.”

“Your loveable robot companions told me they waited this long to do this for you,” Zarkon replies to the pleasant surprise of everyone. “They and the cat have been patiently plotting, waiting for the day you stopped having nightmares about tragic loss. It was the only way they were able to gauge your progress. I can’t even believe it myself. You have the most adorable, empathetic, intelligent robots I have ever heard of.”

As they continued their lighthearted conversation, Anteros and Nevé brought refreshments for everyone as they rearranged their chairs and sat together under the summer sun. 

“Maman, what kind of cakes are these? I have never seen this type of bluey-grey icing before,” Eos asks. 

Nevé giggled. “I reversed all the flavours. You have earl grey flavoured cupcakes; I infused it into the buttercream icing. It pairs perfectly with this mulberry sorbet. And the tea is one of my own making, a peach mint blend. Though I cannot guarantee the flavour as it is different each time.” She winked at them all. The Lotors looked at her tenderly. She was always so creative in everything from combat to cuisine. 

They all had a lovely time with their new family member; the conversation was pleasant, uplifting, and filled with laughter. Zarkon of course, had even more gifts for Nevé as well as the Sincline ships. As Zarkon spoke of his son who had recently gotten married, Nevé noticed Flotor turn pale. She stood and held him tightly to her.

“Are you alright?” Zarkon asks. “I’m sorry, did I say something to upset you?”

When he wasn’t able to answer, Nevé sighed as she stroked his hair. “A long time ago, I asked him if his parents had ever killed a woman he loved and he wasn’t able to answer me. If I am reading this correctly, it is the same woman your son just married.”

The air was filled with the anguished gasps of their children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor babies. Alright, so I guess we’re doing this thing! Next arc of the tale that never ends will be a “How I Met Your Mother” type deal. The Lotors will be able to tell their children all about their lives from Ven’tar to how he met his generals as they travel the multiverse together. 
> 
> There will probably be a delay since I’ve now bitten off more than I can chew with the Spirited Away series. Ugh, stupid DW.


	38. Hardened Hearts

“What kind of psychopathic, gutter-dwelling, worm spawn did you grow up with?!” roars Zarkon with indignant fury. “If only they were still alive so that I could kill them again,” he seethes as he slams his fist into a nearby wall. “Oh my son,” he says with great tenderness as he takes him into his arms, “you cannot know how deeply that pains my heart. I am so sorry.”

Anteros wiped his tears as he also gave his father a hug, followed shortly by all of his children. “Papa, we didn’t know. That is the cruelest, most disgusting, utterly horrifying thing imaginable,” sobs Anaïs. 

“It is alright,” Flotor sighs with sadness and resignation, “it was absolutely senseless, unprovoked, and beyond tragic. I have never forgiven him for the atrocities he has committed; however, I have been able to let go of the bitterness if for nothing else than to free myself from its nauseating asphyxiation and to feel something other than pain.”

Lotor fills the ensuing silence by saying, “I had actually expected to feel better after I killed my father but the void of emptiness instead grew into a black hole of darkness that continued to engulf my being.”

There is another heavy silence before Nymuë says very softly as she embraces him, “That is why I spoke to Dayak and we both agreed that she would be the one to end Haggar. It is also why I assumed the responsibility of ending her life in the other reality; it was to spare you both the pain of doing it, and assist you in the path to healing.”

“You never told us this,” Lotor replies softly. He exhales deeply, closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her waist.

“I wasn’t great at communicating many things to either of you. It was one of my many faults.”

“Yet I must thank you for all that you’ve done for both of them,” Zarkon replies warmly. “Few are possessed of such extraordinary devotion and love.”

“Perhaps it is time I told her story,” Flotor says quietly as he also exhales his sadness and regret. “For many ages, I had believed that their deaths were a result of my failures and inadequacies, which I now understand to be a result of gaslighting, as the therapist called it. I had been unaware that such a thing existed, whereupon abusers will blame their victims for their own crimes and twist the narrative to exert shame, humiliation, and self-doubt. It was why I never was able to speak of her to anyone until now.

“Her world was one of beauty and simplicity, and her people were generous and gracious. Their philosophy revolved around harmony with oneself and with one’s surroundings; they respected all living things and only took what was needed to survive. I was immediately drawn to her kindness, and as the leader of her people, she exhibited a quiet strength and an air of grace. 

“Together, we discovered novel ways of increasing quintessence yields, expressly because of her knowledge of the land, and her creative ways of utilizing her knowledge. I always maintained a formal nuance with her, knowing such a union would be unequivocally condemned, but I naively hoped that if my father could see the benefit of partnering with her people, perhaps one day he would relent, and even accept such an alliance.

“The day before their imperilled fate, she lead me to her preferred vantage point, and under the glow of the setting sun, spoke to me of her aspirations and dreams for the future. I had prepared a gift for her which I clutched tightly in my hand the entire time, and I regret to this day that I did not have the courage to give it to her. That night, I had resolved to speak to her of my intentions, and of my feelings after we had proven our undeniable successes to my father. Surely, then we could be free to speak candidly to one another.

“Never could I have even remotely imagined what that hellbeast would do. She died, never knowing how I felt, nor ever knowing how much she meant to me.” He stopped momentarily as the tears brimmed in his eyes. 

“After he banished me for my alleged failures on that planet, I furtively returned to give her a proper mourning, and proper burial. The gift I had for her, I laid upon her grave. Her name was Ven’tar. I changed that day. I swore to her, that no matter what it took, no matter what I had to do, no matter how long I had to toil, I would be the one to end his reign of absolute terror.”

“I abandoned the ways of my mother to a degree. I understood that if I ever stood a chance at defeating him, I would have to be comparably ruthless, merciless, hardened, and unyielding.”


	39. Tides of Circumstance

“Papa, why on earth would he do something so horrifyingly wicked?” gasps Eos. 

Flotor gently wipes the tears from her face and holds her close to himself. “Because I defied him. I partnered with the inhabitants and specified it was what my mother’s people would have done. People who he had tried to systematically exterminate, and who he deemed as his greatest weakness. He wanted me to crush them underfoot and I refused. The witch rendered me unconscious while they destroyed the entire planet.”

Zarkon just shook his head in disbelief. It was the most egregious evil he had ever heard of and he couldn’t believe it was his own alternate self that was so corrupted. 

“I realize all of this must be incredibly shocking to all of you, especially since you grew up neither knowing evil of this magnitude, nor ever experiencing the horrors of war. If it may be of comfort to you, I am eternally grateful for having met your mother. Unlike everyone else around her, she was able to see underneath the surface from the very beginning, beyond the ruthlessness and hardened resolve that your father and I had been forced to adopt. She remained faithful to us when we would have been abandoned by our allies, she saved our lives numerous times, and brought hope beyond what we thought was possible.”

“We have lived a long time,” Lotor continues to say. “Although one hundred and twenty five years may seem like a mere interstice within ten millennia, this sliver of time has afforded us unparalleled healing and happiness. Therefore, do not be overly distraught at our unfortunate beginnings.”

“How did you meet your wife, then?” Zarkon asks with a grin. 

Lotor chuckles. “Are you certain you wish to hear tales of a naughty cat?”

Anteros sputters on his iced tea. “Did you just call Maman a naughty cat?”

“Indeed. Perhaps you are unaware of her recalcitrant behaviour when we first became acquainted,” he laughs. “I would have likened her fanged vernacular to Kova’s fickle affections. The attacks came often without forewarning.”

Everyone shares a laugh as Endymion recounts his childhood attempts to go to the washroom in the middle of the night. “I had to bring my pillow to swat Kova away from jumping out of nowhere and attacking my bare legs,” he says with a chuckle. 

Lotor laughs some more. “That is exactly what he did to me when I was a child. He also was quite territorial about his spot on my bed. If I so much as tried to move him, he would attack my face.”

Flotor sighed fondly and stated that his Kova was exactly the same. “If I did not fetch his food at the break of dawn, his incessant meowing would degenerate into full-scale facial swatting.”

Lotor had the entire family churning with laughter as he recounted Nymuë’s earliest antics. The children watched starry-eyed as he also spoke of their mutual love of poetry and how he had been taken by her kindness from the moment they met.

“That’s such a beautiful love story,” Avélie sighs. “She gave you her own sweater to sling your injured arm when you were still a captive enemy. And then she gave you her own bedding. I’m going to cry again.”

Anteros gasped then and turned to Flotor. “If you didn’t meet Guinevere until just a few days ago, then what happened in your reality?!”

“I slept on the floor of my cell, dehydrated, and in pain, I suppose.”

“Oh, Papa, that is horrible!”

Nevé goes over to him and holds him close. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I feel awful.”

He smiled tenderly as he stroked her hair. “I would gladly do it again if it meant that I could be with you for the rest of my life. Had I met you then, I would have lost you by now.”

Zarkon places his hand over his heart, greatly touched by the stories he had just heard. “You are just the sweetest, kindest bunch I could ever imagine. Words can’t describe how relieved I am that you are both still alive and flourishing now.”

“If you are not too busy, would you like to stay for a while and catch up with your sons?” Nevé asks.

“I would be delighted. I can’t wait to hear more about your adventures.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so that’s a wrap! I’ll hopefully start the next series soon! Thanks for reading and Merry Christmas, everyone!


	40. So this is Christmas

Veritas: I love this companion cube. I must give it a good name.  
Viris: There are many names in many languages in our database. It is difficult to choose. We have been deliberating for many hours now.  
Veritas: Perhaps we may ask for assistance. 

Hadrien happened to be walking by at that instant and he was flagged down by both of the Sincline ships. It was the first time they had spoken to him and he was completely caught off guard.

“Holy synaptic wonderfuck, you two are actually talking to me! Uh, how’s it... going?” he exclaims.

“We need your help, brother of Lady Nymuë. We do not know how to name our pets.”

“Oh my god, you are the cutest robots I have ever heard of.” He looks at their companion cubes with the heart motifs and laughs. “And those are adorable. Okay, well, let’s see. Can you show me what your cubes can do?”

Veritas summons her cube to unleash an energy attack that blasts the hangar in every direction, and rocks the entire place with a thunderous boom.

“Holy shit, what the ever loving fuck!” he cries as he ducks for cover.

“Is Ever Loving Fuck a good name?”

“No, no, uh, ha ha, no, that’s just an... expression. I have the perfect names for your cubes. How bout Blitz und Donner. That’s German for lightening and thunder. But also how two of the names of Santas’ reindeer came about. So the names are simultaneously powerful, yet adorable. Veritas, yours is Blitz. Viris, yours will be Donner. Do you like it?”

They both gasped and cried. “Hadrien, your names are perfect. You are so smart! We love them! And we love you.”

“Um... I love you too?” he laughs.


End file.
